Blood Ties
by Debra N
Summary: A chance meeting leads to some surprising revelations about Martin's past while the investigation of a missing man becomes far more dangerous than the FBI's Missing Person's unit or ATF's Team Seven expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The Magnificent Seven is owned by MGM. Without A Trace is owned by Jerry Bruckheimer Television and CBS Productions. No profit made. Only respect intended.

**Notes:** Special thanks go to Dusty and Julie for their beta work.

*************** Chapter One ***************

"This is some of the latest photo enhancement software," explained Agent James Mackeroy. Mack, as he insisted JD call him, had been going on for about half an hour explaining all the various technical equipment the FBI used to help solve crimes that fell within their purview. Not that JD minded; he loved this sort of stuff. It was interesting to see how another federal agency approached an investigation. He even got the chance to compare who had the better equipment, which so far was pretty even.

While he enjoyed the tour, JD was well aware that he was being granted far more access than the average visiting ATF agent. Ever since he'd walked into the Manhattan FBI offices it had been made obvious that they were hoping to woo him away from the ATF. It might have been tempting if he hadn't belonged to Team Seven, but JD and the men he worked with had become a family over the past year. There simply weren't enough tech gadgets in the world to lure him away from the Seven.

"Hey, Mack," an older stocky, dark haired Agent entered the room. "I've got some possible footage for the Palof case that I need you to go through."

"Right away, sir," Mack quickly returned to business. He was already starting to work on the new data when he remembered the niceties of an introduction. "JD, this is Jack Malone, he runs the Missing Persons Unit. JD is with the ATF, here for some training on the new explosive chemicals database."

Jack nodded to the newcomer, glancing around for his escort. "No offense, but I'm surprised they're letting an ATF agent roam the building unescorted."

"Agent Gilbert as been checking up on me every so often, but I pretty sure she's under orders to give me free rein. It's all part of a much larger plot to seduce me to the 'dark side of the feds'," JD explained, straight faced.

Jack snorted involuntarily at JD's rather lame Star Wars joke. "Really? And how's that going so far?" Jack almost doubted that the kid was old enough to meet Bureau requirements. He must be one hell of a tech genius to be recruited so aggressively.

"Well, I've learned a few new things in the training, and touring through the different departments has been fun, but I'm not likely to be lured here by software. Chris has already given me carte blanche to design any program I want for the needs of our team," JD admitted.

"You get to design your own programs?" envy leaked into Mack's question.

"Design programs, run computer security, occasionally hack," said JD. "And Chris makes sure that I get trained on all the cutting edge technology so I can keep our team one step ahead of the criminals."

"So should I tell Agent Gilbert to give up on recruiting you for the tech department?" asked Mack.

"I said no to that position a year and a half ago. I don't know why they think I'd want it now." JD had to admit it seemed a waste of everyone's time.

"Sounds like you really like being a tech for the ATF," commented Jack. He tapped Mack on the shoulder and pointed at the computers, trying to get his own tech back on focus.

"That's just it," said JD. "Computers are my specialty, but I'm primarily a field agent. None of the other alphabet agencies were willing to offer me a field position. They all wanted to lock me in some office surrounded by computers." Realizing that he'd just described Mack's position he added, "No offense, man."

"None taken," replied Mack. "I like my office surrounded by computers."

Noticing the time, JD pulled out his cell. "I don't want to be in the way of the work you need to do, and my next class will start in another 15 minutes, so I might as well call Agent Gilbert to escort me out of here."

"I'll save you a repeat of the standard recruitment speech and have one of my agents walk you down," Jack offered. JD nodded in thanks, saying a quick goodbye to Mack before following Jack out of the room. "Excuse me Vivian," Jack addressed a shorter black woman talking to a tall slender Hispanic man. "I need to steal Danny for a minute. Danny would you escort JD to the training seminar going on down on the third floor."

"Sure thing, Jack," Danny stepped up and motioned towards the elevator. "Right this way." Danny had traveled three steps before he realized that JD wasn't following him. JD seemed frozen in place, staring just past Vivian's shoulder to another member of their team.

"Holy crap!" said JD.

"Excuse me," asked Jack, puzzled by the young agent's behavior.

JD looked back at Jack, opened his mouth as if to say something and then snapped it shut and marched past Vivian to the six foot, blue eyed agent in the bullpen. JD held out his hand. "Hi, I'm JD Dunne, ATF."

The man's eyes flickered past JD to Jack in question, but when he received only a shrug he returned the greeting. "Martin Fitzgerald, FBI."

"Do you have any family in Texas, maybe by the name of Tanner?" JD asked directly.

The question's topic momentarily caught him off guard, "As far as I know, no. No family in Texas, or any Tanners in the family tree. Why do you ask?"

"You are the spitting image of one of the guys on my team. Seriously, if you had longer hair, a five o'clock shadow and maybe 10 more pounds in muscle mass you would be Vin." JD circled around Martin as though trying to uncover the explanation for his appearance. Then a wicked gleam danced through JD's eyes. "Would it be okay if Agent Fitzgerald was the one to walk me down? There's someone else I'd really like him to meet."

Jack couldn't help but note the way JD was now bouncing with excitement. And here he'd been thinking Danny threw off a lot of restless energy. "Someone else?"

"Yeah, Josiah Sanchez is one of my other teammates. He's here training some of your agents on profiling techniques." JD smiled disarmingly, offering his most encouraging tone. "I know he'd get a kick out of talking to Martin. I just want to borrow him for a few minutes."

Jack suspected JD was planning a bit more than just a basic introduction, but as long as Martin didn't seem to mind, which by his shrug Jack assumed he didn't, things were quiet enough let them slip off for a few minutes. "Go ahead. Take Danny with you too. That way Gilbert can't complain that we were anything less then perfect hosts."

"Awesome," JD grinned infectiously. "Which way were we going again?" he asked Danny. The three agents walked down the hall, Danny and Martin bracketing their shorter ATF counterpart. Jack watched them for just a moment before turning back to Vivian and the case they were working.

"You want me to say, 'Howdy, Josiah,'" clarified Martin. Danny grinned as he listened to the young ATF agent's odd request.

"It will be great, trust me," JD persuaded.

"Howdy, Josiah." _Who said 'Howdy' anymore?_ Wondered Martin.

"Exactly," JD encouraged, "and try to slouch or lean back when you say it?" When Martin complied awkwardly, JD shook his head. "Haven't you done any undercover work?" Danny snickered at Martin's irritated look. JD decided that he'd just have to make do with Martin the way he was. "Give me about ten seconds lead time before you follow me over." JD turned the corner to stroll calmly down the hallway towards a large, salt and pepper haired man in his late fourties. He stopped on the far side of the man so that Josiah's attention would be drawn away from Martin and Danny.

When the ten seconds had expired, Martin approached the two with Danny on his heels. Closing he started to catch bits of their conversation. JD seemed to be doing most of the talking while Josiah offered the occasional grunt as he scribbled notes in his folder and sipped from his travel mug.

" . . . But meeting the head of their Missing Persons bureau was totally cool. And you'll never guess the best part," challenged JD.

Josiah looked up at his young coworker, easily noting how excited JD was to share his big news. "So tell me, John Daniel, what was the best part of the Missing Persons bureau?" he asked before sipping more coffee.

"Howdy, Josiah," said Martin, three feet from the profiler.

Josiah spit out coffee, coughing in shock. The stream of hot brew just missed JD, who agilely jumped aside. "Josiah, meet Martin Fitzgerald, FBI," introduced JD.

"Lord help us, there's two of them!" Josiah rose to his full height, setting his papers aside. He took Martin's hand in a firm grip, pumping it three times. His eyes latched on to Martin in an unnerving stare. "I've heard of people running across look-a-likes before, but this resemblance is beyond astounding. May I ask what your birth date is?"

Martin was becoming more and more intrigued by the reactions of the mysterious Vin Tanner's team members. Not seeing any harm in Josiah's question he shared, "I was born on July 7th, thirty-two years ago."

"No way," exclaimed JD. "That's Vin's birthday, too. You two must be twins separated at birth or something."

"Something indeed," agreed Josiah. "Your appearance combined with your identical birth dates does seem to stretch the limits of coincidence."

"Well, maybe we should pull Agent Tanner's file and see for ourselves how alike they look." Danny's curiosity had also been sparked by Josiah's reaction. Now he wondered if there was more than just coincidence at work here, and he could tell Martin was wondering the same thing.

Martin's cell phone rang. "Fitzgerald," he greeted. Listening for a moment, he glanced at Danny to signal the call was work related. "Okay, we'll be there in five minutes." Snapping the cell closed Martin updated Danny, "Palof's brother just came in. Jack wants us to run the interview." Looking to JD and Josiah he suggested, "Maybe we'll see you again before your training classes are done."

"Definitely," said JD. "I really need someone to show me the best places for a night on the town. Josiah's idea of a fun night out is visiting the local houses of worship to debate religion and philosophy with leaders of the faithful."

"There's nothing wrong," insisted Josiah, "with taking some time to answer the big questions."

"Unless you're in 'the city that never sleeps' for the first time in your life," protested JD. "Do you guys see what I have to put up with?" Martin grinned, Danny smirked and Josiah shook his head at the foolishness of youth.

"Have you got a number we can reach you at?" asked Danny.

"Yeah, right here." JD pulled out his wallet and produced a small business card.

Danny did a double take as he accepted the card. The black cardstock had red type and orange decorative scrollwork. "JD Devious, Hacker Extraordinaire, (303)-555-0299." Danny read. "What's this, a sideline to your day job?"

"Naw, that's just left over from an old undercover," explained JD. "They turned out so cool I kept the extras. The number on them routes to my cell phone."

"Excellent. I'll call you later so we can make plans," promised Danny. He found himself studying Martin as they rode the elevator back up to the twelfth floor. "I'm trying to imagine you with long hair and I just can't do it," he teased. When Martin only shook his head distractedly, he asked, "Are you going to be able to keep your mind on the case with the . . ." how best to put this? "Tanner situation floating around?"

"Do I have a choice?" asked Martin. "The missing person's got to come first."

Danny and Martin sat in an interrogation room across a metal table from Mark Palof, younger brother of the missing Matthew Palof. Mark shared his brother's blonde hair and gangly build, but he seemed to lack salt of the Earth values Matthew was known to posses. Slouching in the interrogation chair Mark appeared more focused on biting his finger nails then finding his brother.

"I understand you were just recently released from prison, Mr. Palof," stated Danny.

"Yeah, so?" Mark challenged defensively.

"So I'm wondering where you've been staying since you got out," Danny prodded.

"I've been staying with my older brother Matthew," said Mark.

"And yet," Danny continued, "when your brother never came home last night, you couldn't be bothered to do anything about it. We wouldn't know your brother was missing if his boss hadn't reported his disappearance. Why is that, Mark?"

"I don't know," Mark quibbled. "I figured he's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"And you didn't think it was the least bit strange that your dependable early to bed, early to rise brother would suddenly not come home; not bother to leave messages for anyone as to where he was going to be?" Martin asked disbelievingly.

"I'm not his babysitter. He doesn't have to have to check in with me," Mark sniped.

"Speaking of check-ins," Danny changed the topic. "You've only been out a week and a half and you've already missed your first check-in with your parole officer." Danny leaned forward and smiled conspiratorially, "I've got to tell you, Mark, that's not a very good way to start your new life of freedom."

"You think that I had something to do with Matt's disappearing just because I'm an ex-con. Where do you get off accusing me?" demanded Mark. "I did my time, paid my debt to society. Hell, I never even hurt anyone."

"You hacked into a small savings and loan computer system and rerouted millions of dollars. Money from almost 1,300 families, that accounted for retirement savings and house payments. Some of those families are still trying to recover financially." Martin reminded the man of his sins. "That sounds pretty hurtful to me."

"Those people . . . they were just numbers on a computer screen, they didn't mean anything to me. Not like Matthew. When things went bad, he stood by me. Never condoned what I'd done, but he visited me in jail and gave me a place to live when I got out. I'd never hurt him." Mark insisted.

"Then maybe you should think about ways you could help us find your brother instead of wasting time," pressured Danny.

"How? I told you I don't know where he is," protested Mark.

"Is there anyone that's been causing problems for your brother; anyone that has a reason to hold a grudge?" asked Martin.

"Matthew is the original nice guy. No one has reason to hold a grudge against him," said Mark. "Even if someone was causing problems, I haven't been out long enough to know about it. His girlfriend's the one you should be asking."

"Actually, we already have someone talking to her," informed Martin.

A light flashed on the wall phone and Danny got up to answer it while Martin continued to write notes. Danny listened in silence for several seconds. Then he hung up and moved back to the table. "What about you?" asked Danny. "Is there anyone you've been hanging around with that would have reason to cause problems for Matthew?"

"I've been avoiding all the other ex-cons just like I'm supposed to," Mark reported dutifully.

"The same way you've been avoiding your parole officer?" Danny tossed back sarcastically.

"I told you I didn't have anything to do with my brother's disappearance," reminded Mark.

"And I asked you if you knew anyone else who did," returned Danny persistently. The suspect turned away, while Martin glanced at his partner and wondered what he'd heard on the phone that caused him to amp up the interrogation. The look in Danny's eye told him he was about to find out. "Tell me, Mark," said Danny, "Would it surprise you to hear that we found Matthew's car?"

"Does that mean you know what happened to my brother?" Mark queried nervously.

"No," admitted Danny, "but the blood we found on the front seat, indicates that whatever happened, it wasn't good."

For the first time Mark looked concerned for the welfare of someone other than himself. "If he's hurt, you've got to do something to find him!"

"What do you think we're doing, Mr. Palof?" Martin's words seemed to remind Mark where he was.

"See here's our problem," started Danny. "Your brother wasn't carjacked because his vehicle would have been sold or sent to a chop shop by now. He wasn't robbed because the police found both his wallet and his cell. We can even rule out any relation to his work since his briefcase was also left in the car untouched. He was apparently the target of a kidnapping despite the fact that he's a middle class worker with little disposable wealth. The only tie Matthew has to any sort of criminal activity is you."

"I didn't hurt my brother!" shouted Mark.

"Then tell us who did," demanded Danny.

"I want a lawyer," declared Mark.

"I thought you wanted to help us find your brother," Martin attempted to salvage the interview.

"You either get me a lawyer or you let me go, because I, I'm not going to sit here and let you accuse me any longer." Mark tried to play the part of the wounded innocent, but his manner better fit a guilty teenager.

"Wait right here, Mr. Palof," instructed Danny. He and Martin left the room, meeting Jack on the other side of the observation window.

"He's lying," declared Danny.

"You think he did something to his brother?" asked Jack. Even through he'd been observing through the one-way mirror he still wanted to hear Danny and Martin's impressions of the suspect.

"I think he knows exactly who took his brother and why. He had no problem saying he didn't do anything, but every time we asked him if he knew who did, he became evasive." Danny leaned back against the wall and folded his arms as he detailed Mark's behavior.

"But Mark was surprised when he heard about the blood in the car." Martin pointed out. "Maybe Matthew wasn't supposed to be hurt."

"Okay," Jack shifted as he started to theorize. "Let's assume that Mark gets out of jail and immediately goes back to his old tricks. Somehow Matthew finds out and threatens to blow the whistle."

"Right," agrees Danny, "Only Mark's partners don't like that idea so they snatch Matthew before he can say anything."

"But Matthew puts up more of a fight than they expected," guessed Martin, "hence the blood. Speaking of which, how much blood did they find in the car?"

"According to the M.E. on the scene, it wasn't enough to be immediately fatal, but definitely enough to require medical treatment. The longer it takes to find him, the greater the chance of infection." Jack knew the information he was imparting put more pressure on everyone to find Matthew Palof as soon as possible.

"That's if whoever took Matthew hasn't already killed him so they can't be identified later." Martin felt he had to point out the grim possibility.

Jack frowned and then shook his head. "Mark seems to at least care about his brother; he's not likely to cooperate with someone who killed Matthew. Let's continue to work the case as an injured-but-alive missing person. Since Mark has lawyered up, spring him. Have him followed, trace his calls, hopefully he'll lead us to Matthew and the kidnappers."


	2. Chapter 2

*************** Chapter Two ***************

"We've got another one, Jack." Vivian walked into Jack's office through the already open door. It took her just a few seconds to lay out the details of the new case. "Fifteen year old, Ashley Coffer supposedly went to the mall to meet friends and never returned home. Her parents found emails indicating she was actually meeting a boy, but now it looks like the boy was really a thirty-eight year old, John Pendleton. He's got two previous convictions; one for solicitation and one for rape of a minor."

"Sounds like we need to move fast," assessed Jack. "Take Samantha and Elena and run with the case. I'll keep Danny and Martin on Palof for now. If you need more manpower, we may have to get assistance from the locals." It was never easy to work two missing person cases at the same time. That both persons were in imminent danger didn't help. Vivian took the command without hesitation, heading out to organize her team.

Jack got up deciding it was time to see if Danny and Martin were making any progress. He found Martin had whittled down a list of ex-cons that Mark would have known in jail that could be partnered with him now. Danny was checking with the agents following Mark, and reported that after a stop to finally check in with his parole officer, Mark had returned to his brother's home and not left since. After Jack let them know that the girls would be working another case the trio checked in with Mack to see how far he'd gotten with the video footage. With half their team pursuing another case, Mack's help would become much more necessary.

"I've spotted Matthew Palof in the background of an ATM security camera, but he was alone in his car. Then a customer blocks the view for about two and a half minutes, and when we see the car again it's empty." Mack volunteered the information as soon as Jack entered his room. "We might get something better from the boutique next to Palof's car. I'm checking their footage next."

Glancing at one of Mack's secondary screens, a familiar name caught Jack's eye. "What's this stuff over here about JD?"

"Oh, I got curious about the team JD was on and did a little research while I was waiting for the boutique footage to arrive." Mack admitted. His embarrassment at prying into another agent's life quickly gave way to excitement. "You would not believe the people he works with. Josiah Sanchez, the guy's who's here training profilers, has doctorates in Psychiatry and Anthropology, and before that he used to fly medi-vac helicopters in the army. Apparently that's where he met Nathan Jackson the team's medic and forensic specialist. The team is run by Chris Larabee, a former SEAL team commander and seconded by Buck Willington, another SEAL, who's their demolitions expert. Larabee recruited Ezra Standish, their undercover virtuoso right out of the FBI's Atlanta office. They've got Vin Tanner, a former Delta Force sniper and, of course, JD Dunne, the genius who graduated with duel masters in computer science and law enforcement at only nineteen. For their first case as a unit, they shattered the white supremacist group, Ghosts of the Confederacy. Not six months later they took down the entire Nichols mafia family. Back in Denver, where they're based, other law enforcement agencies started referring to them as the Magnificent Seven, now even the criminals call them that." Mack was clearly impressed with everything he'd learned.

Even though Martin had earlier said that he'd put learning about Tanner aside until their case was solved, he found himself asking, "What else did you learn about Vin Tanner?"

"Tanner, let's see, he turned up at Fort Bliss, with a GED, enlistment papers and the shirt on his back, at age seventeen. He entered the Rangers, moved up to Delta Force a couple years later. Eventually he left the army, and spent a year or two as a bounty hunter before joining Larabee's team." Mack listed the information he'd gleaned from Tanner's file.

Martin hesitated before asking the next question. "Is there a copy of his birth certificate that I could see?"

"Sure, I can pull a copy up." Mack did so even as he noticed Jack look on worriedly, while Danny signaled to let Martin continue. "Here it is."

Martin scanned the document for several seconds before cursing, "Son of a bitch! Pull up mine."

"Yours? You mean your birth certificate?" Mack stammered a bit.

"Pull it up now!" ordered Martin shortly. Mack hurried to obey, thrown off guard by Martin's aggressive tone. The new window opened up and Martin leaned forward, taking control of Mack's computer mouse, arranging the windows so they were side by side. Comparing the two, Martin's shoulders slumped.

"What is it?" asked Danny, knowing that Martin had just discovered something he didn't like.

"Not only do Agent Tanner and I share identical appearances and birth dates, but according to these we were delivered less than twenty minutes apart by the same doctor." Martin pointed to the attending physician lines on both certificates.

"That can't be right," Danny protested. "Tanner was born in Texas, your certificate is from Maryland. The same doctor couldn't have delivered two babies a dozen states apart at almost the same time."

"Unless the certificates were altered," volunteered Jack. "That's not uncommon in cases of adoption and the like." Though it was the most logical answer, he wasn't sure how easy it would be for Martin to accept.

"Yeah, only if I was adopted, no one ever bothered to tell me about it." Martin's face became a mask of disinterest, but pain leaked into his voice. Silence reigned as the other occupants debated how to best aid Martin.

"I know someone who might be able to help answer a few of your questions," offered a voice from the door. There stood JD with a backpack hooked over one shoulder and Agent Gilbert standing at the other. "I talked to Vin during the lunch break, and he said he'd like to have a face to face with you. He thinks he has some information you might find useful. I've got all the equipment here for a videoconference; I just need a place to set up."

"You can do that in my office," instructed Jack. Martin was clearly uncertain how to proceed for the moment, but Jack was sure that his natural tendency to seek the truth would soon reassert itself. "Danny, please show JD where that is. Agent Gilbert you can return to your regular duties. I suggest you refrain from gossip if you wish to retain your job." Jack hoped the warning would be enough to keep word of Martin's discovery from getting back to his father, Deputy Director Victor Fitzgerald. The last thing Martin needed was Victor's typical wrath and disapproval from on high.

As the tech room vacated, Jack pulled Martin aside, addressing him in a low tone, "We've got two missing persons with solid evidence that both lives are in jeopardy. I can't afford to give you personal time right now, not with the team already split."

Martin nodded his comprehension. "I know. I'm sorry I'm letting my personal life interfere with work. I won't do the videoconference if you don't want me to."

"Go ahead and take twenty or thirty minutes to hear what this Tanner has to say. But remember, when he's done, we still have an injured kidnap victim to find. I need to know that no matter what Tanner tells you, you're going to be able to focus on our case, and do your job." Jack knew he was asking a lot, but an innocent man's life might depend on Martin's ability to cope.

"I promise," Martin agreed, swearing to himself that he'd find a way to keep his word.

"Okay," said Jack, "when you get to my office, send Danny back here to help Mack with the Palof footage." Martin slipped away without another word. Jack noticed Mack had returned to examining video, studiously ignoring the fact that he'd just overheard a fellow agent's life unravel. Leaving the room, Jack muttered, "I just know this day is only going to get worse."

***7***

JD was well on his way to finishing the setup for videoconference. Danny listened as JD chatted with someone named Buck through the tiny headset hooked on his ear. Buck was the ATF team's demolition expert if he remembered correctly, and was apparently setting up similar equipment in Denver.

Martin entered Jack's office in a businesslike manner, but Danny knew his partner well enough to read the tension in his frame. "Jack wants you to help Mack go through the last of the video footage."

Danny considered asking if Martin was going to be okay, but decided that would be a stupid question. No one would be okay with suddenly finding out that they were apparently one of twins separated at birth, and that didn't even cover the whole secret adoption thing. "I've got your back, if you need me," Danny promised before exiting.

Martin mustered a weak smile of thanks as his friend departed. At the desk, JD confirmed that everything was ready on his side. Moving around the desk, Martin could see a large man with black hair and a mustache say the same.

The man looked up from the connections he was making, his gaze drifting past JD to Martin. There was a fleeting look of muted surprise, like someone who'd already been given information but was just now coming face to face with its reality. Looking away from the video camera, he said, "We're all set up, Vin. Why don't JD and I give you a bit of privacy to speak with Agent Fitzgerald."

"Now I'll be right outside, so just give a shout if you have any problems with the feed," JD offered. A second later he muttered into his headset, "Give it a rest, Buck. I'm leaving already." He scooped up his backpack and left the room.

When Martin sat down and looked back at the screen, for a moment he felt as though he'd been transported to an episode of the Twilight Zone. JD's earlier description of 'longer hair, five o'clock shadow and maybe 10 more pounds in muscle mass' fit Vin Tanner to a T, but it left out so much, like the relaxed way he slouched in his chair or the searching intelligence of his eyes. Martin knew he should say something, but he was utterly speechless.

"I reckon I ought to start since I know a bit more about our situation than you," Vin began. "First off, I've always known I had a brother. When I was a little feller, saying my bedtime prayers, Mama always included asking God to watch over my brother, Martin. I asked her once where Martin was and she just said, 'He was taken from us,' and started to cry. I figured she meant you were dead and never asked again. She died of pneumonia when I was five, so there really wasn't much chance to revisit the subject."

"A couple months ago I got an itch to know a bit more about where I came from," Vin continued. "It didn't take long before I started noticing a lot of things I didn't like. Official records regarding Mama were almost non-existent. I also saw clear patterns that indicated she was intentionally trying to live 'off the record' the way a lot of criminals do. The last straw was when I learned that the FBI had tagged her Social Security number. At that point I had to consider the possibility that she might have kidnapped me. So I had our Doc, Nathan perform a DNA test against a lock of Mama's hair. When it came back positive that I was her son, I chose to drop the investigation. Whatever mistakes she might have made before I was born, I didn't want to know about them. In the end, I decided it just wasn't worth sullying my Mama's memory to learn about something that happened over three decades ago. Still, if you've got questions that you figure need answering, I'll help in any way I can."

Even with the typical weaknesses of video feed, Martin was getting a pretty good picture of Vin Tanner. His sun weather face suited his slightly scratchier voice. He was confident, relaxed, and curious, but willing to let Martin set the pace. Which led back to the question: How far did Martin want to go seeking the truth about his past? There was one person Martin was certain was the architect of the web which now entangled him, but his father was unlikely to volunteer information at Martin's request.

"If you don't think you can get the truth from your family, I know someone we can contact that might be able to help." Tanner apparently included mind reading in his repertoire. "A couple weeks after I dropped the investigation, I received a call from the doctor that delivered us. He said that he wanted to talk to me about the circumstances surrounding my birth. I told him I'd already decided to just let it lay, but he offered to keep all of the relevant information, in case I changed my mind later."

"Do you still have the contact information for this doctor?" Martin spoke for the first time. Vin's suddenly warm grin was his answer.

***7***

JD examined the photo and notations on the white board, while trying to stay out of senior Special Agent Malone's way.

"Jack, we found something on the video. Look at these photos from the boutique surveillance camera." Danny attached three grainy, black and white pictures to the top of the white board.

"So who's the guy muscling our missing person?" Jack voiced the inevitable question.

"No ID yet," Danny replied.

"Miguel Starkweather," JD informed. He'd glanced at images mostly out of habit. He certainly hadn't expected to recognize one of the men in the picture.

"You know this guy?" demanded Jack.

"Unfortunately," JD confirmed. "He's wanted for kidnapping, extortion, theft, the unlawful detonation of explosives, destruction of property and the attempted murder of a federal agent, namely me."

***7***

A rap on the office door was Martin's short warning before it opened, letting JD and Jack in. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we've got a bit of a situation." JD circled around the desk so he could face the camera. "Vin, I need to talk to Chris."

On the screen Vin turned away to shout, "Hey, Cowboy, get in here, JD needs you!"

A few seconds passed as Vin's boss responded to the summons. Standing behind a seated Martin, Jack got his first glimpse of his agent's doppelganger. He suppressed any reaction as Vin moved back to let a wiry blonde take over the conference.

Green eyes seemed to bore through the screen. "What's up, JD?"

"Chris, they're working a missing persons case, Matthew Palof, and I just identified the last person seen with him as Miguel Starkweather," said JD.

A slight tightening of the skin around Chris's eyes was the only visible reaction. "Buck, start pulling all of our files on Starkweather, including the Coltrane case. Ezra, find the profile you made of Starkweather. Nathan, verify that Coltrane's other lackeys haven't been released on good behavior or some other such stupidity. JD, have you had a chance to fill them in on Starkweather's previous misdeeds?"

"Not yet, I figured they'd want our files right away," explained JD.

"I'll leave that to you. You know the case as well as any of us." Chris directed his gaze past JD. "Agent Malone, I highly recommend you insist your agents start wearing bullet proof vests for the rest of their investigation. Starkweather has shown no hesitancy to kill federal agents and he has a bad habit of showing up where you least expect."

Before Jack had a chance to reply, his boss, Paula Van Doren entered the room. "Jack, I need to talk to you about a case."

"We just got a solid lead on Palof," Jack reported.

"Very good, but I wanted to talk to you about assigning agents to your new case," said Van Doren.

"New case? You mean Ashley Coffer. I've already got half my team tracking her. Vivian's working as lead investigator," Jack informed his supervisor.

"No, I'm talking about John Bryant. He's a banker who never showed for his after lunch meeting. His family is very concerned and I've assured his sister, Congresswoman Brander that I'd put my best people on it," explained Van Doren.

Jack wasn't fooled by his boss's flattery. "It's nice that you think so highly of us, but my team is already stretched thin looking for two missing persons in imminent peril, without adding a banker who may simply be enjoying an extended lunch break. Surely there's someone else you could give that case to."

"I didn't promise the congresswoman someone else, I promised her the best. You're taking this case, Jack. If you don't think your team can handle all three at once then pass off one of the other two," insisted Van Doren. Jack found himself clenching his jaw to hold in the half dozen scathing comments that flooded his mind; most of them regarding her playing politics while lives were at stake.

"Jack," interrupted Martin, "I think Agent Larabee has a suggestion." Martin had seen the displeasure on Larabee's face at Van Doren's casual instruction to pass the Palof investigation off to another less experienced team. He'd also noted JD's small hand signal, followed by Tanner whispering in Larabee's ear, bringing a nod of decision.

"Agent Malone, JD has already finished the training I sent him to New York for. I'll loan him to you for the Palof case. That should help until my team and I arrive," Chris offered. He didn't like loaning out his people, but JD seemed to think well of Malone and the lead on Starkweather was too good to ignore.

Across the room Van Doren was realizing that she'd interrupted a videoconference. Her first response was to take offense at the idea that someone else would come to New York to take over a case from her office. Reminding her self that diplomacy was what had gotten her to her current position she inquired, "Excuse me, but who are you and your team again?"

"I'm Chris Larabee, ATF Team Seven. We've come up against Starkweather in the past and he currently tops our most wanted list," informed a lean, muscular blonde of about forty.

Van Doren's immediate thought was, 'Great, just what we need, a bunch of ATF cowboys,' but she said, "I appreciate your interest, but it's really not necessary for your team to travel half way across the country. The Bureau can handle this case."

Chris's lips set in a stubborn line. "And you would be?" he asked, pointing out that she had failed to introduce herself.

"Assistant Special Agent in Charge Paula Van Doren," she replied.

"Well, Ms. Van Doren, it's necessary for my team to take any case I decide we should take. What I can't understand is why you're discouraging our assistance when we both heard Special Agent Malone say his team was stretched too thin. Our current mandate states that our agencies should co-operate whenever possible, does it not?" Chris's words flowed on a cool, cutting edge. "I'll be arriving with two of my agents in six hours. If you can't decide to work with us by then; I suggest you get out of our way." Dismissing Van Doren, Chris refocused on his own agent. "JD, you will vest up and stay sharp."

"Of course," assured JD.

"Agent Malone, I look forward to meeting you later today." Chris accepted Jack's nod of acknowledgement and disappeared.

Vin Tanner moved closer to the camera, "Martin, I'll bring that stuff we were talking about."

"Great, see you soon, Vin," Martin replied. As the connection ended, he had one thought cycling through his brain, 'I have a brother and in a matter of hours I'm going to meet him.'

Across the room more volatile issues were being considered. "I don't see what the problem is," insisted Jack. "You were the one who suggested I pass off one of my cases. This way Larabee gets a shot at someone he's after, and everybody is happy."

"The problem is I don't want a bunch of ATF cowboys telling us how to handle our cases," answered Van Doren.

Back by Jack's desk, JD snorted. "It's a good thing Chris didn't hear her call him a cowboy." At Martin's curious look JD explained, "Chris hates it when people call him cowboy."

"But I thought I heard Vin call him that," said Martin.

JD smiled, "I guess you could say that Vin's the exception to that particular rule."

A few feet away Van Doren continued to display her unease. "You contacted them, Jack. I'm holding you responsible for what happens while they're here." With that she left Jack's office.

Jack rubbed his right temple before turning back to Martin and JD. "Okay, JD give me a quick rundown of your previous case with Miguel Starkweather."

"It didn't start out as a case. Our friend Mary Travis had asked us to help resettle a parolee she was sponsoring. So as a favor we were helping Terry Greer and her daughter Olivia move into an apartment. I was just bringing Olivia back from an ice cream run when I saw Terry and one of my team, Buck, being lead down the sidewalk by five armed men, one of whom had a gun stuck in Buck's side. I ducked into an ally with Olivia and managed to overhear enough to know they wanted her too. We hid her in a safe house while Chris and Vin tracked the group that had kidnapped Buck and Terry. Their trail lead right into the dark side of Purgatory so Vin had to pull out; too many people could have recognized him from his gang."

"Vin used to be in a gang?" asked Martin. He knew it was straying from the main topic, but he couldn't stop himself from grasping every bit of information about Tanner he could find.

"Actually, he's the leader of the Purgatory Pillars," JD rushed on to explain. "See, after his mom died he and his grandpa moved to Purgatory. Kevin Tanner was a retired Texas Ranger who wasn't about to let his grandson get sucked into a street gang. Kevin protected Vin and a couple neighbor kids from the local gangs until he died a decade later. Vin wanted to carry on his grandfather's legacy so when he left the army he set up shop in Purgatory. At first he was just protecting the kids in his apartment building. Then other kids started asking to join. He negotiated a truce between two rival gangs and they eventually merged into his. Now the Pillars control about one-fifth of Purgatory. The only part of Purgatory that has no prostitution, few drugs and one of the lowest crime rates in Denver. Unfortunately, the rest of Purgatory is home to a lot of drug dealers, pimps and rival gangs that aren't too happy about the way Vin cut their business profits and challenged their authority. So anyway, Vin made a strategic retreat while Chris stayed on Buck and Terry. I heard things got a bit dicey when the kidnappers decided they didn't need Buck. Chris had to pick a fight with him and fake his murder in front of a very deadly audience."

"I take it, no one called their bluff?" asked Jack. He couldn't help but be fascinated by the ballsy gamble. Not many people would try something like that without a sound stage, camera crew and bevy of special effects experts to back them up.

"Apparently," said JD with a grin, "Buck makes such a convincing corpse that bums were stripping off his boots and jacket. The leader of the kidnappers, Morgan Coltrane, was so impressed with Chris's killer instinct that he offered Chris a job on the spot."

"So where does Miguel Starkweather come in?" asked Martin.

"Starkweather was Coltrane's lieutenant. Coltrane theoretically ran a security company, but his true income came from breaking into safes, though he was at least smart enough to not rob his own customers. Terry was a safe cracker that Coltrane had worked with before. I guess he expected her to jump at the chance the make some quick money again, but Terry had already lost Olivia to foster care once and she wasn't going to risk it a second time. Coltrane knew Olivia would be the best leverage he could get against Terry, so he sent Starkweather to find her. We're not sure, but we think Starkweather followed Mary to the safe house when she brought some things for Olivia. That night when everyone else fell asleep and I was checking the perimeter, Olivia wandered down to the park across the street."

"She left the safe house?" asked Jack. He understood that Olivia was a child, but her actions were probably the worst thing she could have done.

"Yeah, Josiah still beats himself up over falling asleep on his shift," admitted JD. "I was just clearing the corner of the house when I saw Olivia struggling in Starkweather's arms. I announced my presence and ordered him to release Olivia." JD paused, rubbing his chest unconsciously. "Starkweather tossed Olivia to his sidekick like she was a sack of beans, and then threw something at me. They both took off running and I . . . I couldn't breathe. I didn't realize what had hit me until I looked down and saw a knife handle sticking out of my chest. I managed to fire off a couple rounds after I went down, which at least let the others know something was wrong. While Nathan was patching me up, Coltrane's gang was moving on their target. Ezra located Starkweather and with Buck's help got Olivia back. He signaled to Chris. Chris separated Terry from the rest of the gang and we moved in to take them down. Coltrane was so pissed about having his plans ruined that he tried to run Chris and Terry down with his motorcycle. Chris ended up shooting him right off his bike. As for the rest of Coltrane's gang; one other man died, three were sent to jail, but Starkweather managed to finagle bail and then disappeared."

"Until now," added Jack. JD's story left him wondering how much Mark Palof was involved in his brother Matthew's disappearance. Had he been eager to get involved in Starkweather's scheme or was he as much a victim as Terry had been? Then another thought occurred to him. "Larabee said he was bringing two other agents with him. Doesn't that mean we'll be missing two?"

"Buck and Nathan both have to testify in court. I doubt they'll be done before Thursday," explained JD.

Danny knocked on Jack's open door. "The faxes from JD's team are coming through."

"Well, it looks like it's time to find out what you can do Agent Dunne. You can help Martin and Danny weed through the info and look for what might be relevant to Starkweather's current plans. I'll find out who Vivian can spare to help me look for a tardy banker." His words effectively dismissed the three junior agents. Jack really wasn't looking forward to telling Vivian he was pulling one of the girls off her case. She was going to be very unhappy with him and justifiably so. He wondered how many more lows the day would hit before it was finally over. They had three missing people and right now he didn't know if they'd be able to get more than one of them back alive.


	3. Chapter 3

*************** Chapter Three ***************

Vin had been staring out the window of the luxury jet for well over an hour. Deciding their friend had spent enough time pondering, Ezra settled into the seat beside the quiet man. With the twist of his wrists and a flourish of hands, a single golden coin appeared at his fingertips. When Vin's only response was to glance out of the corner of his eye inquiringly, Ezra explained, "For your thoughts."

"I thought it was 'a penny for your thoughts' not a dollar," Vin pointed out.

"Inflation," Ezra responded.

Vin grinned at Ezra's dry delivery and accepted the coin. The image of Sacagawea and her child embossed on the metal disk reminded Vin of one of the few pictures he had of his mother. The photo had been taken during a hike more than thirty years before. His mother had been carrying an infant Vin in some sort of backpack contraption while Kevin Tanner stood beside his daughter and grandson. Three generations of Tanners enjoying the outdoors together. What few memories he had of his mother all seemed to involve visiting parks or trekking through the wild, the main exception being his last memory of her in the hospital. She'd made him promise to always remember he was a Tanner. Vin wasn't ashamed to admit that, for better or worse, his whole life had been shaped by the promise he'd made at five years old.

"I remember flipping through channels one day, seeing this show about twins separated at birth," started Vin. "They didn't meet up until they were in their late forties, but there were all these similarities; like they were both in law enforcement, they both married petite blondes, they even liked the same foods." Vin shook his head. "But so much of who I am is wrapped up in Mama and Grandpa, and all the things they taught me." Vin paused; one hand fingering the file folder holding all the information Ezra, Buck and even Nathan had dug up on one Martin Fitzgerald. "Martin's got a socialite mom. His dad is part of the who's who of government power. What could we possibly have in common?" Vin gnawed on his bottom lip. "He went to one of the best universities in the country, his test scores . . ."

"Now stop right there," ordered Ezra. "Test scores are an easily fooled measurement of intelligence. That you were able to earn your GED and gain entrance to college without ever having your dyslexia diagnosed or treated speaks volumes for both your intelligence and fortitude."

"I know," Vin brushed aside Ezra's assurances. "I'm just saying, with so little in common, how are we going to talk to each other?"

"The weather is a classic conversation starter. Or you could always discuss favorite football teams. Perhaps swap case stories." Ezra offered lightly. "Then again you may decide that this Martin isn't the sort of person you want to talk to at all. Just because you might share chromosomes, doesn't mean you'll be instant friends." Ezra tapped the folder on Vin's lap. "Have you read all the material we've gathered yet?"

"Glanced through a bit here and there," Vin muttered. "It kind of feels like I'm invading his privacy."

"Vin, I know you aren't naive enough to assume Fitzgerald hasn't already done a similar search on you. Ten to one says that he's already pumping JD for information about you," Ezra calculated.

"Pumping? Heck, you don't have to do more than say 'hi' to JD to get him talking your ear off," joked Vin.

"True," conceded Ezra, "but guiding that conversation where you want it to go can be another matter all together." His instincts were telling Ezra that something beyond the obvious was bothering Vin, but the occasions where he opened up about his problems were often few and far between. Still, Ezra had not become the man he was without learning how to apply the proper leverage. "So how much longer do you want to banter about before you tell me what's upset you?"

"What makes you think it's anything more than being nervous about meeting Martin?" queried Vin, as he looked away.

Ezra ignored the blatant avoidance tactic. "Because you didn't start tapping your foot and shifting in your seat until after you started to read the dossier we created. And I don't believe for a second that this is about you being intimidated by Martin's education or background. So why don't you tell me what it is that's disturbed you so?"

"You've met him. Victor, I mean. The profile you had on him indicated personal experience." Vin was more confirming what he'd deduced than questioning Ezra. "And it didn't put Victor in a very favorable light."

Ezra hesitated. He wasn't pleased to realize that it was one of his own additions to the file that was worrying Vin, but conversely he couldn't leave Vin unaware of a potential hazard. "It's possible that my own feelings somewhat colored my perceptions of Victor Fitzgerald. I only met him a few times very early in my FBI career, while I was still quite idealistic about our purpose. The confrontations I was having with Mother at the same time probably didn't help matters."

"What's Maude got to do with Martin's father?" asked Vin.

"They share certain characteristics . . ." began Ezra. Then he shook his head and started again. "In many ways Victor is what Maude could have become had she sought political power the way she currently seeks money." That was as accurate and succinct an assessment as he could make.

"You think he's the reason Martin and I were raised separate; the reason Mama died trying to keep us hidden?" Vin's question was barely more than a whisper.

"You would know better than I," said Ezra. "You're the one in possession of Dr. Rittman's safety deposit box contents."

"I decided not to open it yet," explained Vin. "I figure, whatever is in there isn't just about me. Martin's got a right to see it the same time I do."

"Then I guess we'll have to wait a bit longer to learn who is responsible for the way you and your twin were separated," commented Ezra.

Vin nodded, seeming to accept that patience would bring him the knowledge he sought. "I wonder if Martin likes beef jerky?" he asked offhandedly.

"Who knows? Scarier things have happened," replied Ezra.

"There ain't nothing scary about beef jerky," snorted Vin.

"Yes, so you keep telling me. I think I'll stick to sushi, thank you anyway," decided Ezra.

***7***

By backtracking some of Coltrane's former interests, JD found a small company that specialized in moving expensive and collectable objects. Eight months ago they'd hired an employee by the name of 'Mike Stark', who just happened to match Miguel Starkweather's description. It was enough of a coincidence to warrant a visit.

Secured Movers, CEO, Eric Fogle did not agree with their reasoning. "Mike is an excellent employee. He comes in early, doesn't mind working late. He takes initiative when it comes to problem solving." Fogle was listing the sainted 'Mike's' virtues for the third time since they'd entered his office. "We do very thorough background checks before we even consider hiring a new employee. Mike is not the criminal sort."

"I'm sure you're right Mr. Fogle," Martin appeased the man. "This is probably just a miss-identification. But we really do need to talk to Mike in person so we can clear this matter up."

"Well, I think he should be back from his run in another twenty minutes. He only had a short transport to do today. I expect, when he arrives he'll head to the break room to wait for his next assignment." Mr. Fogle took a drink from his coffee mug before reiterating, "Mike's really not the criminal sort."

A bespectacled secretary walked in with a collection of papers in her hands. "Here is Mr. Stark's personnel file.

Danny intercepted the papers before they reached Mr. Fogle's desk. "Thank you so much, Betty," Danny smiled charmingly at the older woman. "We really appreciate your help." Fogle blustered a bit in the background, but didn't demand Danny give up the papers. Danny handed 'Stark's' application to JD and his references to Martin, keeping the performance review for himself.

Noticing something in the job history section, JD asked, "Is the letter of reference from Safe Shipping written by George Caffry, New Mexico area code (505) 555-1042?"

"Yes," confirmed Martin. Skimming the letter he continued, "George wrote a glowing recommendation."

"Well, George Caffry, a.k.a. Georgie McCaffrey, is a con man with a profitable side business writing very professional recommendations for criminals of all sorts. Starkweather must not have paid very well, since Georgie used a 'recycled' company."

"That's not possible!" protested Mr. Fogle. "I talked to Mr. Caffry. He was very knowledgeable about our business."

"All part of the con," assured Danny. "We'll need to take these with us. The break room is downstairs across the main floor, correct?"

"Um, yes, that's right," muttered Fogle. The pale man seemed to finally be realizing that his employee might not be what he'd thought.

JD exited the office, which led to a set of open metal stairs overlooking the crate cluttered floor of the small warehouse. He was halfway down, trying to locate the break room door, when his peripheral vision caught a form darting between some large crates. Before he could focus on the figure, sharp explosive gunfire and the whine of metal ricocheting off of metal filled the warehouse. Instinct kicked in, as JD swung his legs over the railing to drop to the cement floor below. Drawing his gun he repeatedly pulled the trigger, sending out a spray of cover fire, to pull attention away from Martin and Danny, and their too exposed position on the stairs. There was a confusing array of screams, shouts and splintering wood, but JD didn't let himself get distracted until two solid thumps landing behind him let him know Danny and Martin had made it to cover. Ducking down, JD turned to check his fellow agents for injuries. Seeing both appeared unscathed, he quipped, "I think Starkweather might have been tipped to our presence."

"You think?" came Danny's sarcastic reply, as he looked for an opponent to target.

Martin radioed their location, "We need immediate assistance. Repeat: Agents under fire."

Checking his ammo, JD cursed. "I'm almost out of bullets," he told the others, wishing he'd brought his back-up gun to New York with him. "Just our luck that Starkweather would come back early today."

"And bring friends," Martin pointed out before he fired two rounds to their left. "I'm guessing there are three guns out there. If we don't move they'll have us in a crossfire soon."

"Agreed," said JD.

Danny, being the closest to the warehouse entrance, slipped quietly to the edge of his cover, taking a quick peek around the corner. The hail of bullets that greeted him was not the welcome he'd been hoping for. "We're not getting out that way!" Danny scrambled back to their island of safety.

"E.T.A. is two minutes," crackled an urgent voice on Martin's cell. JD huddled close to Danny and Martin, firing only to keep their attackers at bay, praying backup would arrive before their bullets ran out.

"I remember you Agent Dunne!" shouted Miguel Starkweather over the sporadic gunfire. Martin signaled that he thought Starkweather's voice was coming from their right. Just as Martin had predicted, the three men were being in circled. "I'm gonna make you pay for messing up my last deal."

"What, driving an eight inch blade into my lung wasn't just recompense?" demanded JD.

"JD, don't tease the wild animals," scolded Danny.

"Especially, when they've got us pinned down in a cross-fire," added Martin.

"Goodbye, Agent Dunne." A reflective missile sailed past JD's head. There was a shattering of glass, and then fire erupted in their midst. JD's eyes watered against the rush of heated air.

Flames spread across the floor, climbing quickly up the wooden crates, and in Danny's case, catching on clothing. A chaotic and creative mix of Spanish and English curses flowed as Danny struggled to remove his burning coat while Martin used his jacket to smother the flames. Knowing their opponents hoped to drive them into the open where they'd be more vulnerable, JD went on the offensive; firing at the two men he saw on the left. A second later he heard Martin firing behind him, but worry about who might be at his back was negated by JD's gun running out of bullets. He dropped the gun and dove for the piece Danny had lost when he'd battled his flaming cloths. JD's fingers latched onto the gun, but his body jerked violently just before he landed. Firing from the ground he saw one opponent fall and the other flee.

"Starkweather's running!" warned Martin. With a shared look the three agents silently agreed to pursue. They moved cautiously through the crates, Danny in the middle, now coatless and armed with his back-up weapon. The sound of an engine starting, had them increasing their pace, but it wasn't enough to prevent Starkweather from pealing away in someone's Camry.

With sirens announcing the arrival of Police, Martin radioed a description of Starkweather's get away vehicle. Soon two police cars were off in pursuit, while a third car came to a stop near the entrance.

"Is anyone hurt?" was the first question from a stout officer.

JD and Martin both looked to the semi-cooked Danny. "Nothing worse then a sunburn here," he assured them.

"I injured another perp in the back of the warehouse," informed JD. "The third shooter fled towards the rear exit. We need to secure the building before we can begin bringing in emergency personnel."

"Let's get to it then," replied the elder cop, grabbing his shotgun out of the car, while his partner pulled out the extra flashlights.

JD quickly lead them to the perp he'd wounded. Bleeding from his side, the criminal was eager to surrender as long as it meant getting medical care. The sweep continued, uncovering several employees hiding in the break room, and two more out back who'd been having a cigarette break when the shoot-out occurred. There was no sign of the third gunman.

Heading back to the front of the building JD heard the ring of his cell phone, though it wasn't coming from his hip. Trotting over to the stairs, he scooped it up off the floor answering, "Agent Dunne . . . Hey Ezra, are you guys in New York already? . . What do you mean? . . Well, we did have a run in with Starkweather . . . No. No one got hurt. Well, I did shoot one of the perps, and Danny got a little singed by a Molotov cocktail . . . What? Chris . . ." JD turned away from the other law enforcement officials gathered, his face containing a mixture of embarrassment and stubborn determination. "I'm not bleeding anywhere. 'No blood, no foul' isn't that what you always say? . . I'm fine! . . Yes, sir . . . understood, sir." JD stared at his cell after the call was terminated. "You'd think I intentionally got into a firefight just to piss him off," he muttered.

"Problems, JD?" asked Martin hesitantly.

JD turned back to his temporary partners. "Chris, Ezra and Vin just landed. They want to meet us at headquarters in forty minutes."

"How'd they cross the country that fast?" Danny wondered aloud.

"Chris is in a mood," replied JD, "so I'm assuming Ezra arranged to borrow his third ex-stepfather's jet."

"We'd better go then," said Martin, happy to turn over clean up to the locals. Chris Larabee didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to keep waiting.

***7***

Martin looked through the ATF Team Seven's file on the Coltrane incident, focusing on Ezra Standish's profile of Miguel Starkweather. They'd been halfway back to the office when they'd received word that Starkweather had escaped pursuit, dumping the stolen Camry about two miles northeast of the shootout. Abandoned coincidently, just a block away from the subway entrance.

The question Martin needed to answer was; now that Starkweather knew they were on to him would he still try to play out whatever criminal enterprise he'd planned or would he cut his losses and dispose of Matthew Palof?

"I think I might have something," said Danny. "Seven months ago Starkweather was part of the Secure Movers work crew that transported about eight million dollars worth of gold to a collector by the name of Claire Hughes."

"What, doesn't she trust Fort Knox?" asked Martin moving closer.

"So where does the connection to Matthew Palof come in?" queried JD from across the conference table.

"Before his hacking got him sent to jail, Matthew's brother Mark created several high tech home security systems, including one for the Hughes family," shared Danny. "He's got to have some sort of pass code or access that Starkweather plans to make use of to get that gold."

"Would it still be any good?" wondered Martin. "If I was going to take possession of something that valuable, I'd upgrade my security."

"Up grade, sure," agreed JD, "but would you really replace the whole security program or just add another layer or two of protection? If Mark wrote the program he might be able to get around any changes that have been added since. It might help if I could see the program he wrote." JD began typing on his laptop. "Still, I wouldn't have credited Starkweather with the patience to wait eight months before making a move."

"The long wait might not have been part of the original plan. Mark Palof was up for parole six months ago, but it got pushed back after a fight with another inmate," informed Martin.

"So Starkweather had no choice but to wait until Mark was finally released." Danny nodded. "It doesn't tell us where Starkweather is, but it does tell us where he might be going."

"Sounds like you're making progress," came a forth voice.

"Jack, I didn't expect to see you back so soon. How's your case going?" asked Martin.

"It's solved. We found our banker in his car, off to the side of the road. He'd slipped into diabetic shock," updated Jack. "He was still holding on when we got him to the hospital. Better yet, I got word from Vivian: She and Elena tracked Ashley Coffer down in Rhode Island. John Pendleton is in jail and Ashley is heading back to her family. Viv said the incident scared Ashley enough to ensure she won't be meeting any more boys via the Internet. We should see Vivian and Elena soon."

A slender female agent with long blonde hair walked up beside Jack. "I heard you guys traded bullets with some bad guys," she greeted. "Is everyone okay?"

Danny lifted his left hand to reveal a small white bandage. "Just a couple of second degree burns."

"Sam, this is Agent JD Dunne, on loan from the ATF. He's had a run-in with our kidnapper, Starkweather, before," Jack introduced. "JD, this is one of my agents, Samantha Spade."

JD stood up and offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am," he greeted with a tip of his head.

Sam's eyebrows rose at being addressed as ma'am, which drew a smile from Martin. But she didn't comment since JD clearly hadn't meant to offend.

Taking a chair Jack brought everyone's attention back to the case. "The Hughes connection is a viable possibility, but we really need to figure out where Starkweather might be holding Matthew Palof. Assuming he hasn't killed him and taken off for safer locales already."

"Well," volunteered Martin, "Standish's profile of Starkweather indicates he's overconfident and unlikely to back down."

"Arrogant," JD added his own insight. "He outsmarted us with the ambush. He won't even consider the possibility that we might be able to turn the situation back on him."

"Unless he's learned from the last time your team arrested him," suggested Danny.

"If Starkweather learned from his mistakes he wouldn't have taken up kidnapping again." JD tapped his pen twice on a notepad before pointing it at Martin and Danny. "Besides, you both heard him during the firefight. Miguel blames me for the failure of their last heist. He wants to beat me personally." JD's eyes flicked to Jack. "We might be able to use that to our advantage."

"Let's leave that thought on the backburner," instructed Jack. "It's never a good idea to encourage the vengeful focus of a criminal." Martin wondered if Jack was thinking of Graham Spaulding. "So far Starkweather has thrown daggers and Molotov cocktails at us. His methods are too unpredictable to start dangling someone as bait. In fact, I'd prefer to have our team at full strength before we try to take him down."

"I think I see some reinforcements coming right now," said JD, smiling across the floor towards the elevator door. The now harried looking Agent Gilbert walked beside a tall slim blonde with an intimidating scowl. Behind them walked a strangely familiar frame carrying a duffel bag, next to a shorter, stylishly dressed man. Martin's breath caught when his eyes locked on the man he was now certain was his brother. Maybe the connection he felt was just his imagination, but he intended to follow where it led.

Gilbert motioned to Jack's group, which had the blonde cutting across the room towards JD like a heat-seeking missile. Jack noticed that JD's grin had become suddenly nervous, but that didn't stop the young man from stepping forward. "Chris," JD started. "I'd like to introduce the head of the Missing Persons Unit, Jack Malone."

Chris completely ignored Jack, stepping into JD's personal space until he'd backed up two steps. "Where'd you get hit?" Chris demanded.

"Hit?" Jack wondered what the hell Larabee was talking about.

"I'm fine, Chris, really." JD's tone was so unconvincing that Jack was starting to wonder what he'd missed. Danny stood, not liking the way his new young friend was being intimidated.

"Just relax, friend," drawled a Texas accent. Danny found himself face to face with a longhaired clone of his partner. "Chris ain't gonna hurt JD . . ." Vin assured with a teasing glint in his eye, " . . . much."

Chris straightened to his full height, looking down on JD. "Did you just say fine?" JD seemed to realize he'd made a tactical error a second before Chris's hand darted out, poking JD in the side.

"Ouch!" exclaimed JD as he turtled up, just barely maintaining his feet.

Before he'd completely straightened the third man, who'd somehow slid behind JD without anyone noticing, lifted JD's shirt to reveal a dark red, circular bruise decorating his left ribcage. "Why Mr. Dunne," came a thick, Southern drawl, "what a lovely shade of red you're wearing."

Jack couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You took a bullet to your vest and didn't tell us?" demanded Jack, his voice rising.

"We were trapped in a crossfire and Danny's clothing was aflame. There were more important problems then a couple of bruised ribs." JD defended.

"And what's your excuse for afterward? Danny got his hand taken care of," Jack pointed out. "You could have broken ribs or internal bleeding."

"I've had broken ribs before. They hurt more than this. I'm telling you; I'm fine." Though JD was still protesting, the defiance had left his voice.

Ezra spoke in a surprisingly gentle tone, "Would this be the 'fine' of a bruised kidney, sprained wrist and concussion that you received from the Nichols brothers or the 'fine' of the last time you encountered Starkweather and were stumbling around with an eight inch blade buried in your chest?" When JD didn't respond, Chris stepped back returning JD's space.

"Samantha, take Agent Dunne to New York City Health," ordered Jack. "We'll let a doctor decide how extensive his injuries are."

When none of his own team protested the order JD meekly moved to follow Samantha. They'd only taken three steps when Chris called out, "JD, sit rep!" Chris's abbreivated slang demanded a situation report.

JD turned around and looked his team leader in the eyes. "Alpha, alpha." Ezra's eyebrow's shot up. "Titanium pillars." Vin smiled. "Structural rust." Jack's team exchanged looks as each realized that JD was speaking in code.

"Understood," said Chris, his voice calm for the first time since he'd entered the building. "Now go with Agent Spade and DO NOT give the doctors a hard time."

"Yes, sir." JD and Sam walked away.

"See, I told you JD would be fine." Offering his hand to Martin, Vin said, "It's good to finally meet you in person, Little Brother."

"Little Brother?" asked Martin. He tried to keep his tone casual, but it felt like his heart was racing a hundred miles per hour.

"According to our birth certificates, I was born seventeen minutes before you. I reckon that makes me the big brother," explained Vin, his eyes sparking with mischief.

Martin found himself grinning at the humor in Vin's tone, and responding in kind. "Does that mean I get to be the hellion? Because most of the little brothers I knew were trouble making hellions and I think I could have a lot of fun with that."

"Good luck trying to out trouble, Vin," muttered Chris as much to himself as anybody else. Turning to Jack for the first time, he said, "Sorry about the rude entrance, but I felt getting JD squared away took priority over introductions. I'm Chris Larabee. This is Ezra Standish and the man standing beside your agents is Vin Tanner."

Jack shook Chris and Ezra's hands and nodded to Vin. "Not a problem," he allowed. "I'm Jack Malone. The agents across the table are Danny Taylor and Martin Fitzgerald. The agent that left with JD was Samantha Spade, though I believe you already knew that."

Chris grinned at Jack unrepentantly. "I like to know who I'm working with; you live longer that way. I suppose now is as good a time as any to decide command. Though we're members of different agencies, I do technically outrank you." Jack tensed, expecting the all too common turf war. "But as much as I want Starkweather, and I really do want that bastard, I think the safety of the kidnap victim has to come first. This is your town. Missing Persons is your specialty. Having you take charge makes the most sense. For the duration of this investigation you can consider my agents and myself at your disposal."

Jack was momentarily speechless. Van Doren had implied that Larabee was difficult to work with and never allowed anyone else to assume command of joint investigations. "I'm surprised you're willing to give me the lead when we've only just met." Jack knew he shouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth, but he wanted to know what Larabee was thinking.

Chris shifted, looking towards Vin. Jack could have sworn that entire conversations were exchanged in that short look. Chris dropped a slim briefcase on the table before looking back at Jack. "I had you checked out. Besides, it's not so much about you as it is about trusting JD's judgment."

"So all of that 'Alpha, titanium, rust' stuff was JD rating my ability to lead this investigation?" At Chris's nod, Jack had to ask, "Are you sure you want to trust the judgment of a guy who wasn't smart enough to tell someone he'd been shot?"

Chris and Vin both chuckled, leaving Ezra to explain. "JD was raised by a poor, single mother who couldn't afford the luxury of health insurance. He learned at an early age that illness and injury were things to be ignored. Everyone on our team has blind spots of one sort or another. We make allowances for each other."

Jack took in what Ezra had just said. "So what's your blind spot than?"

Somewhat surprised that Jack had asked him so directly, Ezra replied, "I'm a gambler."

"And you?" Jack looked to Vin.

Ezra cut in, "Would you believe that there's a small hamlet in the Texas panhandle that is convinced he's a . . ."

"Stop, Ezra," said Vin. "You ain't got to cover for me." Looking towards Jack, Vin took a nervous breath. "I've got a real severe form of dyslexia. Reading's slow for me, and writing is pretty much hit or miss, depending on how tired I am. Back home JD's got my computer all tricked out so I can dictate to it. When we're elsewhere on assignment one of the others usually types up my reports."

Jack could see how much it had cost Vin to reveal his inadequacies, so he acknowledged Vin with a, "We can work with that," and turned to Larabee. "What about you?"

Chris leaned back so he was sitting on the edge of the table. "There are quite a few folks who'd say I've got a death wish. Not long ago they'd have been right, but I recently found some new reasons to keep going." The implications of Chris's comment put the earlier confrontation with JD in a whole new light. Larabee had clearly made his team his family.

"I appreciate your honesty, but I really only see one issue interfering with the investigation." Jack motioned to Martin and Vin. "I know you two probably want to sit down and compare notes, try to figure out what the hell is going on. But I'm going to ask you both to put your personal issues on hold, until this investigation is over."

"Consider it done," was Martin's quick reply.

"Waited this long; reckon I can wait a bit longer, sir," agreed Vin.

"Call him Jack, not sir," Danny and Martin said in unison.

With a small grin, Jack agreed, "What they just said." Looking over the agents assembled Jack started doling out the assignments. "Martin, take Ezra over to the Hughes home and start laying the ground work for a possible sting. And get the program that's running their security system. If the doctors clear JD, we can put him together with Mack to work on it. Danny, we got word from Saint Ann's that the perp JD shoot is stable enough for questioning. Take Vin with you, and find out where Starkweather might be holding up. Chris and I will check out the home address we got for 'Mike Stark' from Secure Movers."

"Is there any chance I might get to question Mark Palof? I'd like to see how involved with Starkweather he is," said Chris.

"He lawyered up when we pulled him in for questioning," Jack admitted, "so anything he says won't be admissible in court, but . . . that doesn't we mean can't make sure he made it home safely."

Chris grinned. "I like the way you think, Jack." Seconds later the Missing Persons department emptied as everyone scattered to follow leads.


	4. Chapter 4

*************** Chapter Four ***************

Danny and Vin moved to the side of the hospital hallway to let a gurney pass. Danny was still trying to decide what to make of his uncommonly quiet shadow. Vin had been willing enough to volunteer information regarding the case, but the few more personal questions Danny had slipped in were met with short firm answers that made it clear he wasn't going to let Danny past his guard. When it came time to interview Juan Espinoza, the perp that JD had wounded, Vin seemed happy to let Danny take the lead with questioning. Juan's initial refusal to speak in anything but Spanish left Danny wondering how much Vin understood of what was being said. Then Juan balked at talking about Starkweather. Vin to shift from his grim stance to lean over the bedridden criminal with threats of dire consequences. Danny learned right then that not only did Vin speak fluent Spanish, but his Spanish actually bore less of a Texas accent than his English. Vin had been intimidating enough to wring a street name and general location out of Juan.

Taking his cell phone out, Danny dialed Jack to let him know where they were heading next. "Jack, it's Danny. Juan said that he thought Starkweather had a place somewhere on 3rd Avenue in Spanish Harlem. He couldn't or wouldn't get anymore specific than that."

In a small house in another part of town Jack looked across the kitchen to Chris. "Well, you're doing better than us. Mark Palof is now missing, just like his brother. Apparently, the surveillance team didn't notice him leave out the back door."

"Maybe a search of the house will turn up something," suggested Danny.

"We've already got that started," said Jack. "But my gut tells me there isn't anything here. This is Matthew's house, and I don't think Mark was planning to stick around long enough to set down roots." Across the room Chris held up a piece of paper. "Oh, Mark left a note for you and Martin."

"He left us a note?" The cell phone signal was clear, but he still had a hard time believing Mark would do such a thing. It wasn't like they had bonded during the interrogation.

"It reads, 'FBI Agents Fitzgereld and Tayler,' he misspelled both of your names by the way. 'If my brother and I turn up dead, Miguel Starkweather did us. –Mark Palof. P.S. He also uses the names Mike Stark and Miguel Coltrane.'" Jack recited. "Chris says that using the alias 'Coltrane' is new. Other than that, we got nothing."

Settling into a plastic chair in the hospital waiting room, Danny relayed the short note to Vin. After a second Vin asked, "Do you mind if I talk to Chris a minute?" Danny quickly passed on the request, handing off the cell phone a second later. "Chris, do you remember there being any reference to 'aguila' in connection with Coltrane or Starkweather?"

"Aguila?" repeated Chris without comprehension. When he got only a confused shrug from Jack, he asked, "What's it mean?"

"Well, 'aguila' is the Spanish word for eagle," explained Vin, "but something about the way Juan said, 'on 3rd Avenue, as the eagle flies,' made me think he was alluding to more then we were getting. His doctor interrupted before I could question him further."

"I can't place the reference, but check with Ezra. I focused mostly on Coltrane. He's the one that got into Starkweather's head," insisted Chris.

"Guess I'm getting a tour of 3rd Avenue next," said Vin. "I'll keep in touch. If you don't hear from us, come hunting." Vin returned Danny's cell and the two headed for the parking garage.

***7***

"I believe I've convinced Mr. and Mrs. Hughes that it would be for the best for them to continue on with their planned trip to Scotland, and let us deal with any possible theft," drawled Ezra.

"I doubt it's coincidence that Matthew was snatched two days before the Hughes family was planning to leave the country," theorized Martin.

"Starkweather couldn't risk having his plot revealed so close to fruition," agreed Ezra.

"I think you're right about someone in the Hughes household staff passing information to Starkweather. Coming in as insurance adjusters was a good call," said Martin.

"You did make quite the convincing security analyst," Ezra returned the compliment. "May I assume you had no difficulties obtaining the security program Mr. Palof created?"

Martin tapped his computer bag in response. "Hopefully Mack and JD can find something in it."

"I have procured keys, security codes, and the Hughes family's permission to stage an operation in their home if necessary," added Ezra.

Sliding the computer bag in the back and taking the driver's seat, Martin admitted, "I hope we can find Starkweather before then. We already know that Matthew Palof was injured during the kidnapping. He might not last another twenty-four hours."

"Perhaps our compatriots were able to discern Miguel's safe haven." Ezra sat in the passenger seat making no attempt to hide his study of Martin. In theory, Josiah was the team's profiler, but in reality Chris insisted everyone on the team practice creating profiles on a regular basis, an easy task given Ezra's experience with human nature. His first concern, that Martin would turn out to be a younger version of his father, was being quickly dismissed. From the beginning, the missing person had been first and foremost in all of Martin's actions. He seemed easy going, but Ezra suspected a fierce temper lay below the surface. In some ways, Martin's obvious moral code and strong need to help others reminded Ezra of Nathan, but he'd also witnessed Martin make a couple of intuitive leaps the likes of which he'd come to expect from Chris.

Stopping for a traffic light enabled Martin to meet Ezra's gaze. He clearly realized Ezra was assessing him, but he stayed silent, making no attempt to sway Ezra one way or another. His quiet acceptance was in fact, the first Vin-like act Ezra had seen from Martin.

The light turned green, and Martin refocused on the road leaving Ezra to his thoughts. They drove several miles before Martin broke the silence with a question. "So, the code JD used to rate Jack; how did that come about?"

It wasn't a question he'd been expecting, but Ezra was more than willing to stick to 'safe' conversation. "Our team works numerous high profile cases, not only in our Denver, CO headquarters, but also in Wyoming, Nebraska and Kansas. This leads to many encounters with other law enforcement agencies, some of which are less than appreciative of our assistance, and others who are less than competent to surmount the challenge presented. Chris made it standard operating procedure for the first agent into a situation to assess the abilities of those we'd likely be working with. This rating is passed on to Chris so he can decide whether or not to take command. When JD said, 'Alpha, alpha,' he was rating both Mr. Malone's ability as a lead investigator and the likelihood of him providing full cooperation to our team. Actually, there's only one other person who's received an alpha, alpha rating; Ryan Kelly who leads the ATF's Team Eight."

"Then what about the other stuff he was saying; titanium pillars and structural rust?" wondered Martin.

"'Titanium pillars' was JD's assessment of the rest of your team. Be assured there is no higher rating. You and your partner seem to have impressed young Mr. Dunne." The way Ezra spoke indicated they were still a ways away from impressing Ezra. "'Structural rust' referred to the support system outside your team. I believe Van Doren's earlier political play is why that rating was less than average," Ezra explained.

Martin mulled over what Ezra had said before changing the topic. "So, why did you leave the FBI for the ATF?" Martin had been attempting to get to know Ezra better with some light conversation, but the tense, silence that greeted his question told him he might have hit a minefield. "I'm sorry," said Martin, "you don't have to answer that."

Ezra considered letting the topic drop, but decided that since Martin was likely to hear about it one way or another, it was better for it to come from him. "You've been with the Bureau long enough to have witnessed an OPR investigation?"

"More than one," Martin admitted grimly.

"The majority of my work attire consists of thousand dollar suits. My car is a three year old, black Jaguar. Those two things combined with my then supervisor's opinion that I was too good at undercover work, was enough for OPR to start investigating me. They questioned my coworkers, friends and family. They subpoenaed my financial records. All of which was within their rights," Ezra conceded. "The one thing they didn't do was question me."

Ezra's only acknowledgement of Martin's surprised look was to continue his tale. "I was under deep cover at the time, meeting with my handler no more than once or twice a week. Here, the story becomes a bit more complicated. My handler claimed he was instructed not to tell me of the investigation. The head OPR inquisitor said he never issued such an order. Regardless, he found no indication I was accepting bribes, as all of my funds were legitimately accounted for, but he refused to close the investigation until he'd spoken to me personally, per regulations. Meanwhile, my supervisor decided I was providing too much intelligence to be pulled out on OPR's whim. So the investigation remained open for months while my supervisor and the OPR investigator continued their pissing contest, and I worked my cover; oblivious to what was happening to my career. Many of my colleagues; seeing an OPR investigation that had been going for months with no sign of closing came to the inevitable conclusion that I must have been on the take. When the case I was working on came to a crisis point, I signaled for emergency backup. Only two agents responded; a young idealistic fellow from Minnesota by the name of Meister, and Dupree, an INS agent I'd contacted a couple weeks before when I learned my target was part of an international human trafficking ring. The three of us held off a small army for six long minutes, before the local authorities arrived. Mysteriously, none of my coworkers besides Meister received my distress signal, or so they claimed. No malfunctions could be isolated in any of their equipment."

"I can understand not wanting to work with the same people who'd left you to die." Martin couldn't imagine being abandoned like that. Even when OPR had been hunting Jack and the Spaulding case was swirling down the toilet, he'd still believed the team would be able to pull through it together. Still, that investigation had only gone on for a short time. How different would things have been if it had continued for months?

"I think I could have accepted their distrust; suspicion is part of human nature, but I couldn't forgive their lack of action, not when it caused the death of an innocent," commented Ezra.

"Meister or Dupree?" queried Martin in a grim tone.

"Ming Po. She was the youngest of four Chinese girls that had been forced into sexual slavery, barely twelve-years old. They were about to be shipped off to an unknown brothel when I interceded." Ezra shook his head at his own foolishness. "I promised them that I could keep them safe if they went with me. My target was most determined to maintain his freedom. He knew the only way that would happen, was if there were no witnesses, so he ordered his people to kill the girls. They shot two of the girls before we could stop them. Little Ming Po didn't make it." Ezra sighed. "I was already teetering on the brink of burnout from being so long undercover. Learning how the OPR's investigation led to a lack of backup was more than enough to convince me to put in my resignation. I was serving the last few days of my notice when Mr. Larabee came to Atlanta to recruit me."

"I don't know that I would have been willing to stick with Federal service after something like that," admitted Martin.

"I wasn't planning to myself," conceded Ezra. "Chris can be quite persuasive when he sets his mind to it."

***7***

Sam was glad to be stepping back into the office. She visited hospitals often enough through work investigations, but it was always more frustrating when you were the one waiting to hear from the doctor. Amusingly enough, JD had been right; his ribs were only bruised. Nothing was broken, torn or bleeding, so the doctor sent them off with some muscle relaxants and pain medication, warning that JD would likely to be stiff and sore the next morning.

JD seemed happy with the outcome. His earlier quiet pose combined with his sad eyes had left Sam feeling so sorry for him, that she'd done her best to cheer him up. Now his pleasure at being allowed back to work, even if only at desk duty, had him rambling on about all the differences between Denver and New York, both as cities and as work environments. JD had already given her a detailed rundown on both the previous case involving Morgan Coltrane, and more recent events including their barely escaped ambush. JD's description had been harrowing enough to make Sam want to rush back to the office and check Martin and Danny over personally. Never mind that she'd already seen they were fine when she'd gotten back with Jack. However, now that she was here the only familiar faces she saw were Elena and Vivian.

"Hey Viv, Elena," said Samantha. "I'd like to introduce JD Dunne from the ATF." She motioned to the agent at her side.

"I heard we'd been taken over by the ATF," commented Vivian, her tone a bit more reserved than usual.

"Actually," countered Sam, "they've been letting Jack call all the shots on the investigation." Unable to resist, Samantha had to ask, "Did you hear that one of their agents is a virtual clone of Martin?"

"Really?" Both Viv and Elena looked surprised.

"Yep," Sam smiled. "Now I know what Martin looks like with long hair. It's kind of sexy, in a rough and ready way." That brought a chuckle from Elena and raised eyebrows from Vivian. "In fact, every member of Team Seven that I've met is total eye-candy. It almost makes up for the testosterone overdose."

Slowly JD eased into a chair at the table a few feet away, no longer bothering to hide his sore ribs. He wasn't quite sure how to take the conversation the ladies were having. He supposed he should be flattered since her statement would seem to include him. On the other hand this situation reminded him a bit too much of high school where all of the girls felt totally relaxed talking to and around him but were never interested in actually dating him. Not that he needed to date any of these women; he had Casey. It would just be nice if for once someone swooned over him the way others always did around Buck . . . or Chris and Ezra. Vin got plenty of looks; hell even Nathan and Josiah got more looks than he did. Working with women agents was not good for his ego.

"It is good to see you were able to rejoin us Mr. Dunne," said Ezra as he and Martin entered the bullpen. "Per Agent Malone's instructions you are to get with Mr. Mackeroy and find out how Mark Palof planned to get past the Hughes security system."

Martin handed JD the small flash drive that held the information on the program Mark had written. Then he turned back to his coworkers. "Vivian Johnson, Elena Delgado, this is Ezra Standish."

Ezra politely shook Elena's hand, but when Vivian offered her hand he instead raised it to his lips. "An honor and a pleasure to meet you Special Agent Johnson. Joshua Meister speaks quite highly of you."

Vivian recognized the name with surprise. "Do you know Joshua from work?"

"Indeed," smiled Ezra, "he saved my life, about a year and a half ago, in more ways than one."

"That sounds like Joshua, always trying to save everyone from everything," grinned Vivian.

A deep new voice asked, "Does anyone mind if I join the party?" Josiah Sanchez entered the bullpen followed by a black suited escort. "I have a few profiles you might want to look at."

Vivian stepped forward to greet the newcomer. "You must be Josiah Sanchez. I'm Vivian Johnson and this is Elena Delgado and Samantha Spade. I believe you've already met Martin."

"Yes, early this morning, though quite a bit has happened since then," commented Josiah. "I thought I'd let my class get a bit of practice profiling on a hot case. Hearing that they were analyzing the same criminal that had attempted to ambush three federal agents earlier today was an excellent motivator." Josiah set two piles of papers on the table, tapping the thicker stack. "These are the profiles on Starkweather. I also had some of the more advanced students try to profile Mark Palof based on the tape of the interview done this morning."

"Are they any good?" asked Jack as he, too, returned to the bullpen. Chris walked a couple steps behind, murmuring in low tones to the person on his cell phone.

"Agent Anaya has a very intuitive feel for profiling, and I also thought Agent Njada had some worthwhile insight into Mark Palof's motives." Josiah extended his right hand. "Am I correct in assuming that you're Special Agent Malone?"

"Call me Jack," he greeted. Noting the faces in the room he added, "Looks like we've almost got a full house."

"So," asked Elena, "Where are Danny and Agent Tanner?"

"At their last check-in they were going to try to canvas 3rd Avenue." Turning to Ezra, Jack continued, "Speaking of which, did Vin get a hold of you?"

"Yes," assured Ezra. "El Aguila was the street name Miguel Starkweather ran under in his former L.A. gang. Though I am at a loss to comprehend how it relates to his current whereabouts."

"Every piece of the puzzle helps," said Jack as he added Mark's note and a few other notations to the white board. Chris ended his cell call and joined Jack to examine the timeline. Thinking back on their earlier conversation, Jack asked, "Do I even want to know what Josiah's blind spot is?"

"Shapely, mature blondes," replied Chris with a chuckle. "They turn his mind to goo."

"Especially, Ezra's mother," piped up JD.

"An extraordinary woman, Maude," agreed Josiah with a glazed smile.

Ezra let out a very unsophisticated snort. "Need I remind you that the last time you saw her, Mother took you for almost three thousand dollars?"

Josiah only grinned wider. "And worth every penny."

"Three thousand dollars? That must have been some date," commented Martin.

"Mother doesn't date men, she cons them," clarified Ezra.

"Seriously?" Martin hadn't expected to hear Ezra say something like that about his mother.

"I didn't learn the ins and outs of undercover work from the FBI," Ezra asserted firmly. "Mother insisted I earn my keep at an early age. I was participating in cons before I was old enough to cross the street on my own."

Shaking her head at what passed for parenting techniques for some women, Vivian recommended, "3rd Avenue's too large of an area for Danny and Vin to cover by themselves. We need to get more people out there."

"Too many people," countered Jack, "and we risk tipping our hand. The last thing we want is a hostage crisis or another ambush." Jack moved over to a city map. Danny said he and Vin were going to start here and work their way north. Sam, Elena, I want the two of you to take the other end of 3rd and work your way south. Keep a low profile, stay in regular contact and don't leave the building until you've vested up." Grabbing a few items the two agents headed out.

"If we can't send in more people, we need to narrow our focus," pointed out Vivian.

"Right," agreed Jack. "Find out who owns the businesses, who rents the apartments, anything to start eliminating possibilities."

One of the office phones started ringing and without missing a beat Chris picked it up answering, "FBI, Missing Persons' Unit."

"He does that well," commented Vivian, pleasantly surprised by how well their teams were working together.

"He seems to do a lot of things well," agreed Jack. During the afternoon, Chris had impressed Jack as a man of thoughtful action.

"I'm going to put you on speaker phone," Chris informed the caller. He tapped a button on the console, set down the head set and ordered, "Shoot, Buck."

"Well, first off," came a deep twang that Jack would have expected to hear in some John Wayne western, "Donnie Espinoza isn't in jail like we thought."

"What happened?" asked Chris.

"An overcrowded prison combined with some good behavior from Espinoza. He was only released about three weeks ago. The system hasn't been updated yet. We still wouldn't know he was out if Nathan hadn't insisted on verifying his location in person."

"Donnie Espinoza is the guy that helped Miguel Starkweather kidnap Olivia last year, right?" Martin asked for verification.

"Yep, and we think there's a good chance he was the third man in the ambush today," said Buck. "Especially since Juan Espinoza, the perp you hospitalized, is his cousin. I'm faxing a photo array to see if any of you can ID him from the warehouse."

An idea clicked in the back of Martin's mind, and he moved to his desk to verify it. He looked back through the list of convicts that had severed during the same time as Mark Palof. Leafing through the papers until he found the list of prisoners for nine months ago, Martin scanned for a particular name. "Juan Espinoza served time with Mark Palof. They were on the same cellblock together."

"So Mark was likely in on the plan to steal the Hughes' gold," guessed Jack, "but we still don't know what part he played in his brother's kidnapping."

"I'm also sending the hard copy for the latest interviews with the Greer's," added Buck over the speaker. "Terry couldn't give us much as Miguel joined Coltrane while she was in jail, but Olivia remembered Miguel from the kidnapping. She said, for the most part he ignored her, but when she tried to sneak out a bathroom window, he caught her, tossed her on the bed and told her she should thank God, Coltrane had a problem with hurting kids, because if it were up to him, she wouldn't be so lucky." Buck paused to get a handle on his outrage. "Chris, you know what a tough little kid Olivia is. Starkweather scared the hell out of her."

Vivian pulled the photo array off the fax machine and set it down before JD. "Does anyone look familiar?" she asked. Martin came over to examine the pictures too, but quickly realized that though he'd seen Starkweather during the firefight, he'd never gotten much of a look at the other two.

One of the six faces jumped out at JD right away, but he carefully took a moment to study each photo and be certain of his identification. "This guy." He tapped one of the faces. "Number five was the third member of the ambush. His hair is a bit longer and he was wearing sideburns this morning, but that's him."

"Are you sure it was number five?" asked Buck through the speaker.

"Positive."

"It's confirmed then. Donnie is working with Starkweather again," Buck said grimly. "You should already have everything we've got on him. We won't be able to help out much beyond what we've already done. Besides having court tomorrow afternoon, the Russell case has picked up again. And don't worry Chris I've already talked to Ryan Kelly, and his team will backstop Nathan and me if it hits a crisis point."

No one missed the look of frustration that crossed Chris's face. "Okay, but I want copy on everything that happens, and tell Kelly to expect a call from me."

"You got it Stud," Buck tossed out the familiar nickname. "Before we end, Nathan wanted to have a choice word or two with JD."

"Awe, hell, Buck can't you just tell him I'm not here," pled JD.

"Not a chance," scolded Buck. "You'll be lucky if I don't chain you to your desk when you get back to Denver. What the hell were you thinking, not telling anyone you'd been shot? I swear, sometimes I think my horse has more common sense than you."

"Come on, Buck . . ." As JD continued to try to plead his case, Josiah, behind him, seemed hard pressed not to laugh out loud.

"Three to one; says Nathan figures out that JD hasn't taken any of the medication he's been prescribed." Tossed out Ezra.

Before Jack, Vivian or Martin could respond Josiah and Chris both chimed in, "Sucker bet."

"Is that JD I hear," came a new voice over the speaker. "JD, I want you to read me the instruction the doctor gave you. I want to know what medicine he prescribed, too. And you better not tell me you haven't taken any pain killers yet."

"But they always make me feel so dopey," complained JD. As he and Nathan continued to negotiate JD's medical treatment, the others got back to the business at hand.

"As entertaining as it is to listen to Nathan lecture JD, I do have to get back," declared Josiah. "I doubt I'll be invited to return if I, the instructor, start cutting class. I'll stop back when the seminar is done, if you don't mind," he suggested.

Jack nodded. "At the very least, JD and Mac will still be around, and probably eager for a helping hand."

Several farewells followed Josiah down the hall. JD accepted a bottle of water from Ezra and took two of the pills he'd been prescribed. Nathan, satisfied with Ezra's assurance that JD had indeed swallowed them, ended the call.

Across the table, Martin realized that he was staring at JD's pain medication and shook himself to force his mind away from its dangerous path. He grabbed one of the Starkweather profiles Josiah had brought up. Not even four lines into it Martin could feel someone watching him. Glancing up he found Ezra's steady gaze. Then Ezra's eyes flicked to JD's painkillers for a moment before sliding back to Martin, his brows rising meaningfully. Humiliation swamped Martin at being caught staring longingly at pain medication. Unprepared to make any public explanations, Martin pulled his keys out of his pocket and set them on the table, the small key chain proclaiming his sobriety plain to see. Without shifting his stance, Ezra took in the key chain and gave Martin just the slightest nod of understanding. That should have been enough to ease Martin's mind, but suddenly a new fear emerged. There was a fair segment of the law enforcement population that believed: once a drug abuser, always a drug abuser. What if his reunion with his brother was over before it could even start because Vin didn't want to associate with a recovering addict? Martin took a deep breath, and reminded himself that he couldn't worry about how Vin might react when the life of an innocent man depended on his ability to focus on the case. "Jack, what kind of parameters are you thinking about for eliminating 3rd Avenue locales? Are we assuming that Starkweather couldn't have been at his current base of operations for longer than nine months?"

"That fits with when he seems to have shown up in New York," agreed Jack. "Let's not overlook the obvious. Start checking for anything rented or leased under Starkweather's name, as well as, his aliases. JD, start working on that security program with Mack. If we can't find where they're holding up tonight, we'll need to be waiting for them at the Hughes' in the morning."

JD grabbed his stuff and went off in search of Mack, while Vivian sat down next to Martin with a phone book and a note pad. "We're going to be at this all night," she predicted, but the memory of the blood found in the front seat of Matthew Palof's car kept her from begging off to have dinner with her family.

More than an hour passed as Chris, Ezra, Jack, Martin and Vivian tried to verify every business and residence on 3rd. During that time Vin and Danny checked in twice with little to report. Sam and Elena hadn't done any better on their check-in. JD and Mack seemed to be progressing well with their work, but about the only thing those working in Missing Persons' had learned was that Ezra was quite fluent in Spanish. Whenever one of the others started struggling to communicate with a Hispanic, Ezra had deftly taken the phone and handled the conversation. Something Jack in particular had seemed to appreciate.

"What was the gang name Starkweather used to go by?" asked Vivian.

"El Aguila," said Ezra paying more attention to what he was reading on his laptop screen.

"Spelled A-G-U-I-L-A?" she verified.

That was enough to shift Ezra's focus. "Correct."

"I've got an Aguila Empresa that leased an office space seven and a half months ago." Vivian tapped a few more keys to bring her more information, a smile ghosting across her lips. "The name listed on the lease is M. Coltrane."

"Eagle Enterprise," Ezra translated. "I'm quite certain Morgan Coltrane never possessed holdings east of the Mississippi," added Ezra, confident that Agent Johnson was on to something.

"Mark's note did say that Starkweather was using the alias Miguel Coltrane," Chris pointed out.

"That's enough for me," said Jack. "Martin, have Danny and Vin check out Aguila Empresa next."


	5. Chapter 5

*************** Chapter Five ***************

"Yep, that's Mark Palof with Starkweather," confirmed Danny, returning Vin's spyglass. "It's about time we caught a break." He was glad he'd agreed with Vin's suggestion to approach the building from the side. They'd circled around the back of the building, identifying an exit that Sam and Elena were now covering. They then proceeded into the abandoned office space across the alley, giving them a great view of Starkweather's windows.

The rest of their teams were on the way, but it would be several more minutes before they arrived. That left them with the job of watching the criminals and hopefully locating Matthew Palof. Danny was betting he was in the room that Starkweather had just dragged Mark out of. Starkweather had wedged a chair under the doorknob so whoever was inside couldn't get out. Starkweather and Palof weren't alone; they'd also seen Donnie Espinoza and another man they couldn't identify.

"JD," radioed Vin, "any way you can get your hands on the blue prints for this building?"

"I'm pulling them as we speak," came the disembodied voice over their headphones.

Vin set down his bag, tying back his hair. Danny watched as Vin pulled out a Winchester 70. "Miguel Starkweather is hands down the most dangerous man in there, so I'll be making him my primary target. I need you to watch for any of the others trying to approach that blocked door. We can't let this become a hostage standoff." Danny nodded, wondering what he'd gotten himself into; he'd never spotted for a sniper before. The closest he came was the Pritchard case, and those hadn't been real bullets. "Okay, JD, you can feed me the plans," instructed Vin.

"The third floor layout is as follows . . ." JD started listing square footage and room dimensions that meant little to Danny, but Vin took them in stride, forming a mental map that needed only occasional clarification.

"Confirm," insisted Vin. "The third window from the back is part of Starkweather's leased unit?" Danny's eyes shot to the window in question and he smiled at what he saw.

"Yes, that's confirmed," replied JD. "The third window from the back is part of Starkweather's place."

"What have you got?" cut in Chris. En route to the building that housed Aguila Empresa, he, Ezra, Jack, Vivian and Martin rode in the back of an FBI van, each kitted out in bulletproof vests, dark clothing and weapons. The jackets and caps on Jack, Viv and Martin were prominently labeled FBI, while similar items on Chris and Ezra were emblazoned with ATF. Ever since the van had left for the location of their soon-to-be raid, they'd been listening to Vin and Danny scout the site.

"They left the window wide open," Vin's voice was full of satisfaction as he shared that bit of knowledge. Everyone listening understood; that unprotected entrance could give them a huge advantage when it came time to apprehend Starkweather and his men.

"Vin, the blueprints don't have a fire escape on that window." JD's words doused some of the excitement in the van.

"No," agreed Vin. "I reckon Ezra will have to skidaddle across about eight feet of ledge to get to the opening."

Back in the van Ezra let his forehead fall into his left hand. "Mr. Tanner, I believe I have spoken to you before about volunteering me for potentially hazardous duties."

"I only suggested it because you're the best man for the job." Vin stated simply. The backhanded compliment had Ezra throwing his hands in the air in exasperated surrender, bringing a grin to Chris's lips.

"Are your people always like this right before a raid?" asked Jack. He was used to feeling much more tension exuding from other agents as zero hour approached.

"Actually," replied Chris, "They're usually worse than this. JD can get as bad as a bee buzzing in your ear." The indignant gasp over their wires told them JD's view of Chris's comment.

Jack wasn't sure if all of the relaxed camaraderie was overconfidence or if Larabee's team was just that good. "So how big of a ledge are we talking about?"

"I'd guestimate about 10-12 inches," detailed Vin as he focused on the ledge with his scope.

"It's 12 inches on the blueprints," reported JD.

"It's a doable maneuver," Martin's climbing experience assured.

"Good," said Jack, "Then you can go with Ezra to safeguard Matthew Palof. We'll," Jack motioned to Chris and Vivian, "take the front while Samantha and Elena sweep in from the rear. Any questions?" Silence met Jack's orders.

The van dropped their group about a block from the building Vin and Danny were watching. Martin and Ezra took off first, passing Sam and Elena around the back, before starting up the fire escape, trailed by back up agents and police officers. Jack, Vivian and Chris led a similar contingent in through the small empty lobby of the building. Taking the stairs they startled a janitor who was apparently taking an unscheduled smoking break. Ordering another agent to escort the janitor further down the stairs, they continued to climb.

Reaching the third floor of the fire escape, Ezra shot a dirty look toward the dark window that sheltered Vin and Danny, and then stepped cautiously over railing, testing the ledge. Martin waited until Ezra was about two feet ahead before he followed suit. Walking the ledge wasn't impossible, or even all that difficult, but the drop to unforgiving cement ensured their wariness. Ezra stopped at the window to ready a flashlight and examine the best way to enter without alerting those within. He was crouching in the opening when Vin's voice cut across their wires.

"Pull back. A hostile is coming your way," Vin warned in a calm but no less urgent voice.

Faster than Martin would have thought possible, Ezra swung his body out of the window, flattening it against the wall across the window from Martin. Ezra thumbed his flashlight off as footsteps neared them. Suddenly light poured out the window.

"Now would be a real bad time to sneeze, boys," commented Vin. "Looks like our unidentified perp is searching for something." The sounds of shifting boxes and papers filtered out into the alley, while Martin and Ezra impersonated statues on the ledge. As the sounds moved closer their eyes met. Both men knew how precarious their situation was. "The perp is armed," said Vin. Beside him, Danny noticed Vin's finger settle on the trigger of his sniper rifle. Then the noise within the room ceased.

"I think he found what he was looking for," sigh Danny with relief. Seconds later footsteps receded and the room's light switched off. "He's heading back to the main room. Looks like you're clear."

On the ledge, Ezra said, "I think I'll let you enter first this time." Martin grinned before he crept into the room. Ezra followed him in and the two unholstered their weapons before checking the hallway. The door likely trapping Matthew Palof was about six feet away, but there was no way to get to it without crossing right in front of Starkweather's line of sight.

Martin keyed his mike; "We can get to the door, but Starkweather's going to see us do it."

"Understood," said Jack. "Wait until we take the main door; then secure the victim." They'd reached the third floor and were now cautiously approaching the door near the end of the hall.

Within the apartment, Martin and Ezra were both a bit startled by the sudden jangle of a too loud telephone. Starkweather picked it up in the main room. Through the window Vin could see the sudden and drastic change in his body language. "Something's wrong. Starkweather might have been tipped to the raid," Vin warned. Ezra focused on Starkweather's side of the conversation to hear conformation of Vin's fears in Starkweather's rapid, curse laden Spanish.

"Donnie's going for the victim," warned Danny, frustration was swamping him. Somehow the raid was going to hell while he was too far away to do anything more than watch.

Crouched in a dark room, Martin and Ezra's eyes locked and a decision was reached. "We're going in," announced Martin a second before he and Ezra moved into the hall. "Federal Agents! Drop your weapons!" Faced with two armored agents with guns drawn, Donnie's hands rose in timid surrender. Grabbing Donnie by his shirt Ezra spun him around and relieved him of his gun before forcing him to his knees and slapping on a pair of handcuffs, while Martin covered him.

Outside the unit Jack had kicked into a run. "Tanner, you have a green light," he said giving Vin permission to start shooting potential threats.

At Danny's warning Vin had shifted focus away from Starkweather to Donnie, his first objective: to protect the kidnap victim. Seeing Ezra had the perp under control, Vin looked to reacquire Starkweather. Then Goon-Number-Two caught his eye by pulling and automatic rifle out from behind a sofa. Vin didn't wait for him to swing it in Ezra and Martin's direction. "Firing!" A .308 round punctured glass and then flesh, hitting the goon in shoulder, causing him to drop his rifle.

A few feet away, Mark Palof panicked as he realized that bullets were flying. "Don't shoot me, I'm unarmed!" he cried as he dove for a corner to hide in.

"Taking the door," announced Chris, wanting their teams to know who was about to knock the door in. He skidded to halt, and then slammed a well-placed kick right next to the doorknob.

Jack forced his way through the swinging door first. Spotting a bloodied figure on the floor groping for a rifle, Jack kicked it away and flipped the man on his stomach, handcuffing him despite his wounds. Vivian and Chris swarmed past him to face off with Starkweather, who'd grabbed the panicked Mark and was holding a gun to his head.

"There's nowhere left for you to run, so just put the gun down!" ordered Vivian.

"I'll do whatever I please, and you'll let me, unless you want a dead body on your conscience." Miguel declared defiantly, tightening his grip on Mark, who did little more than gurgle.

Over their wires they heard Vin warn, "He's too far into the corner, all I've got is brick wall. Repeat: I have no shot."

Martin edged closer to the stand off, catching Starkweather's attention. "You get back!" he shouted stepping forward and swinging his gun towards Martin for just a second before sticking it back in Mark's temple.

Knowing Starkweather's step had brought him closer to Vin's range and hoping to taunt him into moving a bit more, Chris challenged, "You weren't able to get past us before. What makes you think tonight's going to be any different." Then Chris took a calculated move to the side, forcing Starkweather to divide his focus between the many agents.

From across the alley, the view through the window left a lot to be desired. Danny and Vin could tell where Starkweather was from the direction the agents in the room were aiming their weapons. Even shifting for the best possible angle, Vin still couldn't see more than glimpses of the hostage and his hostage taker. For a clean shot he really needed to see the perps head or body. "I said get back!" shouted Miguel. Vin could hear the mixture of anger and panic that indicated Starkweather was close to losing control. Then Vin saw Starkweather's gun hand swing away from the hostage towards Chris. He couldn't wait any longer.

For the second time glass was punctured. Starkweather cried out as the gun was shot from his hand. Chris pulled Mark out of Starkweather's grasp, while Vivian forced him to the ground. Pushing Mark to the side Chris harshly ordered, "Stay down," and scanned the room one more time before shouting, "Clear!"

"Clear!" Ezra responded from the interior hall.

"Martin?" called Jack, when he realized his agent had vanished from view.

"In here," Martin called from the previously blocked room. "I've got Matthew Palof. He's got two infected stab wounds. We need immediate transport to a hospital." Even as he spoke he tried to help the feverish man sip a bit of water.

The support agents that had held back during the stand off began funneling into the room, followed by Elena and Samantha. "Could I have a roll call please," asked JD through their wires.

Chris rolled his shoulders, letting the tension ease a bit as the familiar ritual began. "Gunslinger's good."

"Conman's flush," Ezra assured.

"Tracker's shiny," said Vin from his perch.

"Shiny?" wondered Danny.

"It's from some canceled TV show JD loves," Vin explained.

Nodding, Danny chimed in, "Cuban is good."

Hearing Danny join Team Seven's roll call, Martin piped up, "Little Brother's a-okay."

"Leader is fine," reported Jack. Hearing Vivian recite Miranda Rights to Starkweather, he added, "Mother Hen is okay, too." Vivian shot him a dirty look, but Jack couldn't be bothered to worry about it. Three cases, three endangered victims and three innocent people found and helped. Today had turned out to be a lot better than he expected.


	6. Chapter 6

*************** Chapter Six **************

It was an inevitable rule of law enforcement that clean up after a raid took ten times as long to finish as the raid itself. It was hours after sunset. Donnie Espinoza and Mark Palof were in jail. Only time would tell if Mark's claims that he was innocent of his brother's kidnapping were true. Miguel Starkweather and the other perp, who kept insisting his name was John Smith, were under guard in the lockdown ward of a nearby hospital. Matthew Palof was in another hospital being pumped full of antibiotics to fight off the infections in his wounds. He was critical, but his doctor seem hopeful, and she'd promised to keep Martin appraised of his condition.

"Why don't you save the paperwork for tomorrow?" suggested Jack. "Knock off early and take care of your personal business." Jack's eyes flicked towards Vin at the conference table with Chris.

"Actually," Martin started a bit hesitantly. "Vin's got an envelop that might have a few things that will need to be verified and . . ."

"It would be a hell of a lot easier to verify those things here," finished Jack.

"I don't want to put you in a bad position with my father," said Martin, but he still hoped that Jack would allow him to use FBI resources. He doubted he'd be willing to accept anything he uncovered in Vin's folder without confirming it at least three different ways.

"Please," scoffed Jack, "You know I live to piss off your father." Seeing Martin grin a little, he continued, "You do whatever you need to do to get this straight in your head."

"Thanks, Jack," said Martin.

"Why don't you and Vin use my office," offered Jack. "I doubt this is something you want an audience for."

Martin stammered another thanks before walking over to Vin and asking, "Do you still have that envelope from Dr. Rittman?"

"Right here," he started unzipping a side pouch on his duffle. Vin pulled out a legal sized manila folder with a small bump in one end.

"Jack's given us the use of his office." Martin motioned to the glass walled room.

Shooting a quick glance towards his teammates, Vin said, "Let's do it."

"We're here if you need us," offered JD as the two walked away. Nodding his acknowledgement, Vin continued to trail Martin. Upon reaching their destination Martin showed Vin in, closing the door behind them.

Vin fiddled with the envelope starting to feel a bit nervous. "Like I said before, Dr. Rittman told me that everything we needed to know about out birth and separation was in here. I'm not sure myself just what that entails."

"Guess there's only one way to find out." Martin sat in one of the two chairs by Jack's desk.

Vin tore open the seal and tilted the envelope so its contents could slide out on the desk. A stack of at least 20 papers was topped with a small audiocassette.

Picking up the first page Martin started to read, "Notarized statements attesting to the custodial transfer of Baby Tanner second of male twins born to Elizabeth Tanner by the child's biological father, Victor Fitzgerald." Martin paused, trying to swallow past his incredibly dry throat.

Vin snagged the three-decade-old audiocassette and walked to the door, leaving Martin alone to think on what he'd just read. Opening the door, Vin leaned out and shouted, "Hey, JD." When his friend approached a minute later he held up the audiocassette. "Think you could hunt up something to play this on?"

"Sure, Vin," replied JD. "Just give me a couple of minutes." The young agent immediately dashed away on his chosen quest.

Closing the door again, Vin turned back to his little brother. Damn, he couldn't even describe the rush he got every time he thought about the fact that Martin was his brother. The only other time he'd felt such an instant connection to someone had been when he'd first locked eyes with Chris across the main street of a small desert town. Not that the connections were the same. With Chris it was the recognition of another kindred spirit, a complete understanding of who and what that person was. With Martin it was like finally finding a part of himself that he hadn't even realized he was missing. A small part of him realized that Martin was capable of hurting him, probably more than anyone else in the world, but he'd already decided he wasn't going to hold anything back.

Rejoining Martin by the desk, Vin noticed the way Martin passed the first of the papers without looking him in the eye. Vin realized that Martin looked ashamed, as though he felt responsible for their past. "I think we both need to keep in mind: What happened thirty-two years ago may have happened because of us, but that doesn't make it our fault."

"Your right, of course," agreed Martin in an unconvinced voice. Not sure what else to say, the two lapsed into silence while they continued to read. Martin worked his way through the doctor's summary of their birth, which described how Vin had been rushed to the neo-natal unit after his umbilical cord had become wrapped around his neck during delivery. Martin's own birth had followed minutes later without complications. There were statements from two nurses and a receptionist describing the intimidating arrival of two FBI agents to the Maternity ward. As Martin started to pick up the fifth page he noticed Vin was still slowly reading the second. He remembered that Vin had earlier told Jack how his dyslexia made it difficult for him to read, especially when tired.

Vin must have felt the weight of Martin's gaze, because he looked up with a grimace and said, "You probably never figured you'd end up with a twin that was stupid."

"You're not stupid," Martin immediately countered almost angrily.

"It's a shame you weren't around when we were kids," said Vin. "It would have been nice to have had someone tell my forth grade teacher that."

Martin shook his head in irritation. "Dyslexia has nothing to do with intelligence." Taking a risk Martin pushed on. "It's certainly a lot easier to accept than some of the problems people bring on themselves . . . like addiction."

Vin picked up the vulnerability in Martin's voice. "You're . . . in a program?"

"Narcotics Anonymous," Martin admitted. Vin nodded acceptingly, letting Martin decide how much to say. Realizing that Vin wasn't going to judge him, Martin continued, "I took two bullets in a shooting. The funny thing is I was almost done taking the painkillers. But then I injured my hip during a raid, and started taking two, three times the normal dosage so Jack wouldn't put me back on desk duty. I'm not sure when taking the pills stopped being about the pain and started being about how damn much I needed them." Martin released a shaky breath. "I'm lucky that I had friends willing to call me on my stupidity before I got anyone killed."

Before Vin could give any sort of reply, a tap on a window interrupted them. They looked over to see JD holding up a small cassette player. "This should be good for playing your tape," rushed JD as soon as Vin had the door open. "But it's pretty old so let me know if you have any problems."

"Thanks, JD. We'll take it from here." Reading Vin's desire for privacy, JD suppressed his urge to help further by stepping back and letting the door close. Vin set the cassette player on the desk and plugged its cord into an outlet. "So do you want to read through all of the records and statements first or do you want to hear what's on the tape?" he asked.

"Let's hear what's on the tape," Martin decided quickly. Vin slipped the cassette into the player and pushed the play button.

"The baby, Vin Tanner seems to be responding well to treatment and has stabilized. We should be able to ease back on his O2 soon." _The tape began with a voice that Vin recognized as a younger, slightly less scratchy Dr. Rittman._ Squeaky door hinges were followed by Dr. Rittman's voice again. "Hello, Beth. How are you feeling?"

"_Better," came a shy response._

"That's Mama," said Vin, his voice rough with emotion. Despite all the years since her death, Vin could easily imagine her sitting up in her hospital bed, greeting the doctor.

"_This little guy sure does love to eat." Beth Tanner's shyness was washed away as she spoke of her child. "I've been breastfeeding him for almost ten minutes and he doesn't seem to want to stop."_

"Do you mind if I keep my tape recorder running?" asked Rittman. "I'm afraid even I can't read the notes I write."

"I don't mind," she replied.

There was a hollow metal thunk that Martin took to be Dr. Rittman setting down his medical recorder to better examine his patients.

"Are you feeling any discomfort?" asked Rittman.

"_Some pins and needles," Beth admitted. "Your nurse said that was normal for first time mothers. Besides he's worth any pain. I knew I loved them before they were born, but actually holding him, it feels stronger than anything I've ever felt in my life. I swear my heart could burst. The nurse said Vin was doing better. Will I be able to hold him soon?"_

"_Well, I don't think he's quite ready to leave the neo-natal room yet, but I'm willing to arrange to have you taken to him. Perhaps when this young man is done eating," declared Dr. Rittman. "Speaking of this young man, have you come up with a name for him yet?"_

"_No," admitted Beth, "Nothing seems right. When I first found out I was pregnant I was sure I was going to have a boy. I wanted to name him Kevin for my father, but Pa said it wasn't right to saddle a baby with someone else's name and all the expectations that went with it. That's when I decided on Vin, to honor my father but still keep his name individual . . . unique. When I found out I was going to have twins, I wasn't sure what to do. Should I look to our Kiowa heritage to name him? Take a name from my mother's side of the family? I guess there was even a part of me hoping that their father would want to have a part in naming the boys."_

"The boys' father hasn't shown any interest in his children?" The doctor asked.

"_He made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me when he left. I've tried to write him twice since then, but there's been no response." Beth paused. "I just don't understand how he can ignore the fact that he's a father."_

"_Men often make foolish choices they later regret," was the only explanation the doctor could offer._

"Fortunately," entered a new male voice, "I'm not the sort of man to make such mistakes."

When Vin's eyes shot to Martin, he immediately confirmed what Vin already suspected. "It's Da . . . That's Victor Fitzgerald." The words were hard to say past the lump in his throat. Even worse was sinking weight in his gut. Everything they'd heard so far told the story of a woman who was joyously happy about the births of her children. Beth Tanner was not a mother who would give up her child willingly.

"_Victor, I didn't think you'd come," said Beth with a nervous breathlessness._

"_You weren't supposed to know I was coming. Not until I knew the real reason you were contacting me." Victor retorted._

"_I wrote you because I thought you had a right to know I was pregnant. I didn't expect anything for myself, not after the way you left," Beth protested._

"_I presume you are the father," Dr. Rittman interrupted, hoping to diffuse the tense situation._

"_Indeed, I am Victor Fitzgerald," replied Victor. "I'm going to be taking my sons home with me in a few minutes, so I suggest you get together any paperwork you need me to sign."_

"_Take them with you?" asked Beth. "I'm glad you want to be their father, but I'm not giving up my babies to you. We need to sit down and work out some sort of visitation schedule."_

"_Doctor, shouldn't you be getting some forms?" Victor spoke to the doctor. "You really don't need to be here while we discuss family matters."_

"_I don't want you upsetting my patient," insisted Dr. Rittman. "Childbirth is an exhausting event, Beth needs rest, not harassment."_

"_Of course, doctor." Victor agreed willingly. The next few seconds contained the sounds of movement and the closing of a door. After several seconds of silence Victor declared, "I have no intention of being a visitor in my sons' lives." Then his tone turned more enticing. "I have more than enough wealth to provide for these boys, Elizabeth. They'll go to the best schools, the best universities. Other parents talk about their children growing up to be president, but I can actually make it happen."_

"_You're talking about things, Victor," argued Beth. "What about a Mother's love?"_

"_My wife will provide that," Victor assured._

"_You're married?" Beth sounded shell-shocked. "I never really knew you, at all."_

"_My wife had a miscarriage last year. I had difficulty dealing with her depression and strayed. I'm fortunate that she's agreed to forgive me. I certainly won't humiliate her further by engaging in a public custody battle with some teenage girl."_

"_There doesn't have to be any custody battle," protested Beth. The infant began to fuss, disturbed by the harsh voices._

_Victor lowered his tone to a whisper, but his words were still clear. "I'll do anything I have to, to secure my heirs. Think for a minute Elizabeth. You're an unwed teenage girl with little education and no source of income. What judge would allow you to retain custody?"_

"_My father's going to support us while I finish college," explained Beth._

"_Your father's going to be too busy fighting corruption charges to protect you," said Victor._

"_Corruption . . . that's not possible. My father would never break the law," countered Beth with absolute faith in the man who'd raised her._

"_If that's true, I'm sure he'll be found innocent eventually. After all I don't need him to be found guilty, just kept occupied until I have my sons," Victor explained reasonably._

"_You'd tarnish my father's reputation and career just to get to me?" murmured Beth._

"_Look at things from my perspective, Elizabeth. You're young; you can have other children. Due to complications from her miscarriage my wife can't. These babies are the only boys I'll ever have. You can't expect me to walk away from them," argued Victor._

"_Of course not. I'm willing to share them," assured Beth, hoping that Victor would finally see reason._

_Several seconds of silence passed and then there was a shuffling of paper. "My lawyer drew up some papers. Why don't you let me hold the baby while you look them over," suggested Victor._

"_No," Beth refused, her voice betraying her distrust. "I can hold him and read at the same time." About fifteen seconds passed before a much more agitated Beth spoke again. "I'm not signing these. They would terminate my parental rights."_

"_If you read further, you'll find we're willing to amply reimburse you for your sacrifice. And I can further guarantee, that as soon as you sign those papers, your father's internal review will be dropped," promised Victor._

"_But if I don't you'll ruin us both. Is that what you're saying?" Beth was crying now, and apparently it hadn't gone unnoticed._

"_What is going on here?" demanded Dr. Rittman. "I made it clear to you that you weren't to upset my patient."_

"_I'm afraid it has become unavoidable," said Victor. "I hope you have the appropriate forms ready, because I'm leaving with my sons."_

"_I don't think I'm going to allow that. Newborns need to be with their mother," insisted Dr. Rittman._

"_You don't have a choice." There was the sound of paper unfolding. "I have a court order from Judge Wilson granting me temporary custody until permanent custody can be decided. I was informed that Elizabeth delivered twins. Where is my other son?"_

"_Obviously you weren't told everything," said Dr. Rittman. "There were complications with the first baby's delivery. The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck cutting off oxygen for an unknown amount of time."_

"_Are you saying there's brain damage?" asked Victor._

_There was a pause. "I'm saying that infants that die within a few hours of their birth are usually sent straight to the crematorium."_

"_Then I guess there's nothing else to keep me here," decided Victor in a harsh tone._

"_No! Please don't do this," cried Beth. Muted struggles and an infant's wail joined her continued pleas._

"_If you come to your senses and sign the papers, I'll see that the money is released to you," Victor assured. "Do yourself a favor, Elizabeth, and forget this child ever existed."_

"_Wait! Please, at least tell me what you're going to name him," Beth begged for one last connection to her child._

_In a surprising moment of weakness, Victor replied, "I'm naming him Martin Fitzgerald." More squeaking door hinges were followed by a moment of quiet sobbing. _

_The door was pushed open again and a new female voice asked, "Doctor, what's going on?"_

"_Has Agent Fitzgerald left?" asked Dr. Rittman._

"_Yes," she replied. "I just saw him get on the elevator with a baby and the other agent."_

"_Get a wheelchair. Beth needs to be taken to her son in neo-natal." Dr. Rittman instructed. _

"_Vin's okay?" asked Beth in a too frightened voice._

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I just couldn't think of any other way to keep him from taking both boys. You need to talk to a lawyer and find out what your rights are as soon as possible," instructed Dr. Rittman.

"_He's too powerful to fight," replied Beth hopelessly. "He'll probably go after you too, when he learns you lied about Vin."_

"_I'll deal with that when it happens," answered Dr. Rittman. "For now let's get you down to your son."_

_***7***_

JD's foot tapped out an unrelenting staccato as he sat in one of the two chairs in the hall. He'd made a concentrated effort not to stare through the windows of Jack's office, but it had been impossible not to glance that way every other minute or so. A big part of him sympathized with what Vin was going through. He'd also been raised by a young single mother who'd died too young. To be suddenly faced with an unknown sibling would throw anyone off balance. How much worse was it for Martin to learn that everything he'd been told about where he came from was a lie? JD knew there wasn't anything he could do to change what had happened in their past, but that didn't stop him from wanting to help, even if that meant running around looking for ancient tape players.

"Coffee?" asked Danny. JD was irritated to realize he hadn't even noticed the other agent's approach. Then he noted Danny's nervousness and understood that Danny was likely worrying about Martin the same way he was worrying about Vin.

"Yeah, thanks." JD accepted the Styrofoam cup and motioned to the empty seat next to him. "So did you finish typing up your report?" There was nothing like small talk to distract you from your worries.

"Most of it," replied Danny. "I decided to let Ezra use my computer for a bit so he could get some of his paperwork done." He sipped his coffee and glanced towards Jack's office. "Our teams work well together. The bust went down without a hitch, we saved the victim and none of our people got hurt."

"Yeah," agreed JD. "I still hated being stuck here at the office. I felt so useless knowing everyone was in harm's way without me to back them up."

"Well," countered Danny, "I was right there next to Vin with a bird's eye view of the whole thing and I still felt pretty damn useless."

"You might have felt useless," said Chris walking over to join them, "but you were doing just what Vin needed you to be doing. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is stand back and wait until someone asks for help." Both young men knew Chris's little nugget of wisdom was as much about their current situation as about the raid.

"In other words; waiting sucks, but we should get used to it." JD summed up. Chris just smirked into his coffee.

Shattering glass jolted all three men into action. JD rushed into Jack's office first, with Chris and Danny a few steps behind. Within, Vin corralled Martin ordering, "Hold still, I need to see if you got any glass in your hand."

Seeing blood trickling down Martin's fingers, JD decided, "I'm going to go find a first aid kit," and disappeared back out the door.

Chris hovered in the doorway, hesitant to intrude. "Vin?"

"I've got it covered, Cowboy," assured Vin, all the while focused on calming Martin.

Danny also noticed Martin's agitation and offered, "I'll be right outside if you need me."

Martin never even heard the promise he was so wrapped up in his rage. "Sanctimonious son of a bitch! He ought to rot in jail," ranted Martin.

"For what? Parental kidnapping wasn't even a crime in most states back then, and Mama obviously never tried to take him to court. Even with the blackmail and abuse of power; the statute of limitations has long since passed, as have those to whom it would have mattered most," reasoned Vin.

"Now I'll never know my mother or grandfather, they'll never know me," whispered Martin. How could it hurt so much to lose people you'd never known?

"They do know you," assured Vin with absolute certainty. He waited until Martin met his eyes again before he continued, "They've been watching over you for years. The two of us weren't brought together just through coincidence."

"I've got the first aid kit," JD announced with his return.

Jack followed silently on his heels. He'd managed to keep to the others from rushing his office, but just barely. Every one knew that Martin and Vin had gone to reveal some potentially devastating parts of their past, and the breaking of glass combined with JD slightly panicked request for a first aid kit had not boded well.

Vin pulled Martin's injured hand under the surviving lamp. The other lamp was in broken shards on the floor. Taking the kit from JD, Vin efficiently cleaned the wounded hand. "The cut's not too deep. A couple of bandages should be enough."

"I'm sorry about your lamp, Jack," Martin apologized sheepishly. "I'll get you a new one."

"I'm more concerned about you than the stupid lamp," Jack replied bluntly; perhaps a bit too bluntly because Martin appeared completely stunned by his statement. "What do you need Martin? What can we do to help?"

Martin looked from the pile of evidence to Vin, seeking permission. "It's your call, Little Brother," Vin answered Martin's unspoken request.

"We need the facts of these documents checked." Martin motioned to the pile. "I don't doubt their veracity, but they need to be independently verified and if I do it, a lot more than just a lamp is going to end up broken on the floor."

"I can do that," volunteered JD, eager to actively help Vin and Martin. "I've already finished my case work."

Martin's nod accepted JD's offer. "Once the facts have been verified, make copies of everything," he instructed.

"Are you sure that's how you want to play it?" asked Vin. He could see this leading to a lot of potential conflict.

"Dozens of people have seen you walking around the office today. Eventually word will get back to Victor about this case, about you. Do you want the man you heard on that tape trying to control your career and manipulate your life?"

"Not a chance in hell," Vin swore a little more vehemently than he intended.

That was all the answer Martin needed. "Make copies," he reiterated. "At least three sets."

"When you're done give the originals to Ezra for safekeeping," added Vin. "He'll know a good place to stash them."

"Anything else?" asked Jack.

Martin smiled weakly. "I think I could use that personal time you offered."

"Done," declared Jack. "Now get out of here so I can clean up my office."

Martin looked at Vin. "Do you have a place to stay here in town?"

"I haven't actually had time to make arrangements yet," Vin admitted.

"My apartment has a sleeper sofa," Martin offered. "It might give us more time to talk."

"I think I'd like that. I'd like that a whole lot." Vin couldn't wait to learn everything there was to know about Martin.


	7. Chapter 7

*************** Epilog ***************

JD took another sip of milk as he scanned the data on the monitor. In theory, he was just waiting for his turn with OPR. The Office of Professional Responsibility handled all of the internal reviews for the FBI. Because their joint investigation had led to the shooting of three perps in less than twelve hours, OPR had a lot of questions. Since they were talking to Chris and Ezra first, JD had wanted to continue fact checking the statements Vin and Martin had left behind. About forty minutes ago, Jack had settled JD at Martin's unoccupied desk and left to run interviews for yet another missing person's case. JD had already discovered that Judge Wilson, who'd supposedly signed Victor Fitzgerald's custody order, apparently never served on the bench in family court, which meant he really didn't have the authority to sign custody orders. The fact that Wilson had been a long time friend of Victor's father was a fair indication of how Victor had attained the order.

Vivian set a chocolate chip cookie next to the keyboard JD was working at. "Elena and I need to check out a possible sighting of our MP, but Samantha and Mack are in the tech room if you need anything."

"I got it, thanks," he said, dipping his cookie into his milk and taking a bite. JD could certainly see what attracted Martin and the others to the Missing Persons unit. Connecting all the dots to recreate someone else's past, racing against the clock to find that person in time. Combined it could make for some pretty exhilarating rescues . . . or some pretty devastating discoveries. JD knew a lot of the victims weren't found in time and some were never found at all. That was part of the reason the burnout rate for an agent in most M.P. units was just two years. That Jack's unit easily exceeded those numbers meant he was running one of the most experienced and respected Missing Persons units in the country. If for some reason he couldn't work with the Seven any more, JD would definitely want to work here.

Elmer Bernstein's theme from 'The Magnificent Seven' started playing on JD's cell phone, letting him know that one of Team Seven was calling. "Hello," he greeted.

"Hey, JD. It's Vin," answered in his ear. "Do you know where Chris is at? I tried calling him, but only got his voicemail."

"He probably turned his cell off for the interview with OPR," explained JD.

"OPR? Hell, we aren't FBI. We don't even need to give them the time of day," groused Vin.

"I think Chris decided to be nice, since we actually found an FBI unit we could work well with. Though he did insist that he be allowed to be present while any of his agents are questioned. He's in with Ezra right now," JD updated to his absent teammate. "Oh, and Chris and Jack both said that if you called in to tell you, 'you don't have to be in until after lunch'. You're scheduled to talk to OPR at 1:30 pm but until then you're free."

"That's just as well," admitted Vin. "I was actually calling to see when Chris and Jack wanted us to come in. We were up until 3:30 this morning talking and Martin's still asleep on the couch."

"3:30?" JD glanced at his watch, which read 8:30. "What are you doing up already?"

Vin shrugged, but then remembered JD couldn't see him and answered, "The sun is up. I've never been much good at sleeping when the sun is up."

"Alright, well, I guess we'll see you this afternoon then," said JD.

"Later," agreed Vin before ending the call. He spent a moment studying Martin on the couch. Martin definitely wasn't a light sleeper, but like he'd told JD, they'd had a late night. He had to admit that it had also been a pretty good night. In addition to talking there had been laughing and quite a bit of sharing. Vin learned that Martin did indeed like beef jerky, though he usually ate it when hiking or rock climbing. Vin had promised to show him some incredible climbs the next time Martin made it out to Denver. There had also been a few uncomfortable moments: Martin revealing more details of his self-destructive spiral into drug addiction. Vin describing the time he'd spent on the streets as a teenage runaway, fleeing an abusive foster home. Yet through it all was the certainty that nothing that rose from their pasts could divide them. By tomorrow he'd likely have to head back to Denver, but even the thousands of miles between them wouldn't sever their link. They were brothers.

The End

Hope you enjoyed this story. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


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